


Husk and Howl

by MyDoranda



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Bureaucracy, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Isolation, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Paperwork, Politics, Presumed Dead, Psychological Trauma, suicide mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-16 07:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 40,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13631811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyDoranda/pseuds/MyDoranda
Summary: Everyone’s disaster has a backstory.Rodney’s had involved someone tugging on his arm. “You’re a scientist," she’d said. “Are you not curious about this?”Well, of course.Because Rodney had been both of those things.Chapter One: PlanetChapter Two: AtlantisChapter Three: Documentation





	1. Planet

Everyone’s disaster has a backstory.

Rodney’s had involved someone tugging on his arm. “You’re a scientist," she’d said. “Are you not curious about this?”

Well, of course.

Because Rodney had been both of those things.

* * *

Relaxed and satisfied people tended to make Rodney suspicious: Planet 3PX-432 appeared to be populated by them.

For about two hours each day, the citizens of calm and bucolic Planet 3PX-432's only city transferred dried beans from storehouses to semi-communal eating spaces, prepared a simple meal, and puttered around in small gardens. The rest of their time was spent lounging in various town parks, chatting about vague domestic matters, and strolling along the river. 

Their guides told the team that with small variations, this was how each day unfurled. 

This would be fine, Rodney brooded, if they engaged in additional discourse. Yet, as far as he could determine, the planet's citizens did not display any curiosity in things such as stars, geography, traveling, inventions, exploration, storytelling, weather, art, their own history, and the “why” of anything. They appeared to have no controversies or complicated dialogue. They questioned nothing. Aside from the specter of tedious storytelling, this was not how Rodney would want to live. 

The late morning meal was preceded by a short homily delivered by a smiling older woman named Kurlen. It included a placid welcome to their unexpected visitors and exalted the qualities of satisfaction and the contentedness on Tarlos. It took Rodney a moment to remember Tarlos was the name of the city as well as the planet. Well, of course. They didn't call their own home Planet 3PX-432! 

The food in bowls on the seven expansive tables consisted mainly of thick bean soup. It was served alongside a weird fruit that looked like a squishy blue apple. Rodney scooped bits out of its peel and watched it jiggle on his spoon before swallowing it. He thought it tasted like what lilacs smelled like. 

John and Ronon utilized their diplomatic skills at a long table near the front of the large dining hall. From his own seat on the other side of the room, Rodney caught occasional glimpses of his two teammates as they conversed with their table mates. Rodney could tell by their body language that both men appeared to having a bit of trouble keeping their meal companions' interest. Rodney thought that perhaps he wasn't the only one struggling with some odd disassociation here. 

Rodney was seated a few chairs away from an unusually pre-occupied Teyla. While her dining companions didn't seem to notice, Rodney sensed that her normally smooth and effortless discourse appeared to falter a bit as she kept glancing at the open door. Rodney knew she was concerned about a very ill friend on Athos and blamed her distraction on that stress. It was also possible that the meals' emphasis on beans were giving her some digestive trouble, and she was looking for a graceful way to make a polite temporary exit. He tried to catch Teyla's eye, give her a smirk, and tease her with a pinch to his nose, but she seemed to get her bearings and turned her attention back to her fellow diners.

Rodney attempted to engage his own meal companions with questions about some standard genetic theories regarding crops which he coupled with a bit of math, but all he got in return were disinterested stares and a change of conversation that focused on how warm the afternoon sun felt on their backs when they walked by the water.

The topic of growing seasons failed to capture their interest, as did his questions about the oral traditions they had regarding history. 

He had asked them about the architecture of the solid, wooden buildings in the city, and they blandly recounted that the structures had been built several generations ago and were not of their doing. 

Rodney tried another topic, a purposely provocative one which he hoped would get a spirited answer. "Tell me about your legal structure and how you punish people who steal things from one another?" 

One of the older men replied, “But who would do such a thing?” as his companions smiled and passed him a plate of fruit.

After the meal, Rodney pointed these frustating observations out to his team.

John replied, “I’m not very concerned you find the conversations boring here. Getting into a squabble with some of the local population about what you regarded to be scientific inaccuracies was what got us kicked off the last planet we were on.” John narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need to remind you we left that place empty-handed.”

Rodney thought that, yes, perhaps he had been a little too intense on Planet #Y9B-449; the sweltering heat and flying squirrels the size of beagles may have had a part in that. 

“Besides,“ John said, “I imagine most people are dullards to you. I know you may find it astonishing, McKay, but not everyone finds happiness working eighteen hours a day or taking things apart just to put them back together again. Nor does everyone need to be able to explain the Callan-Symanzik equation and why it's important. ”

Rodney was impressed that John was aware of the Callan-Symanzik equation, much less how to pronounce it. Perhaps John knew more about n-point correlation functions than he let on. But before Rodney could comment on this interesting possibility, Ronon added, “You’d prefer more fighting, bullet wounds, quarantines, running for our lives, and bad food, McKay?” 

“Of course, not,” Rodney sniffed.

“While they do keep to themselves, Tarlos is known among my people for being a paradise,” Teyla said. “The energies they would have expended in what you call intellectual pastimes is apparently spent simply enjoying each other’s company. Perhaps they know time spent with loved ones can be all too brief.” Teyla’s face tightened with sadness.

John said, “Lack of cultural and scientific pursuits aside, let’s just hope they’ll be amenable to a trade agreement which involves their plentiful dried beans. As you all know, we’ve not made much progress on these last few forays, and we need some success to justify the time and energy we spend. I’ve been feeling the pressure from Elizabeth on this topic, and this planet is one place we can get back on target, especially in the area of our long-term storage of protein.”

Rodney tried again. “It’s not really their lack of those pursuits that’s setting me on edge, it’s that they seem so vapid, detached. They don’t question anything. It’s not like I’m a snob -- ”

John, Ronon, and Teyla all turned to look at him at the same time. 

“Okay, even if I do have pretensions,” Rodney said, throwing his hands in the air, “I still feel an uneasiness about something here. If nothing else, the time/work/goods equation doesn’t add up.”

Teyla looked concerned. “If you suspect our negotiations may be on uneven ground due to your perception of their capabilities to fully understand the trade agreement and its implications, then we will, of course, discuss it further when we return to Atlantis to finalize the proposal.”

“Yes,” John said. “Certainly. But if you’re just being a moralistic jerk, then let’s move on.”

Rodney didn’t dignify John’s comment with a reply.

* * *

The evening meal was similar to the midday one but with the addition of a platter heaped with some sort of roasted fowl. Rodney again wondered how they, given their abundant leisure time and lack of a more complicated crop production system, had access to so much food.

When he asked one of their guides about what he felt to be this disconnect, she replied, “The fruit grows on trees and is easily harvested, and the grackenbirds we keep in pens; they are no trouble. Our fuel and soap come from the sap of the many sirun trees. All we have to do is hang a bucket on them.”

“And your mainstay, the beans?” Teyla asked. “They are quite plentiful. You must have perfected your agricultural systems to be able to have such an ample harvest of them. The storehouses you showed us this afternoon were quite impressive.”

“Indeed,” their guide said vaguely. “We have our gardens. They are quite productive, and we enjoy our morning work there.” 

Teyla smiled as a group of laughing children darted past their table, and even Ronon looked enchanted. When one of the children stopped and handed Rodney a wilted bouquet of weedy flowers, Rodney thought, “Never trust a goddamn utopia.”

He didn’t meet his teammates’ faces as he took the offering; he really didn’t need to see their grins which probably said, “That’s McKay, always the cynic.”

* * *

After the evening meal, John stepped out to do a radio check-in with Elizabeth. Rodney wondered if one of the points of discussion would be the off-side conversation John and Ronon had had shortly before sitting down. Rodney didn't know what the topic of their consult was, but the body language of both men suggested it was one that contained elements of disagreement. When Ronon had shaken his head and turned away, Rodney could tell that whatever debate they were having, it wasn't over yet, and he knew it would come up in an upcoming team debriefing. 

As Rodney stood by the kitchen door and watched the dishes being cleared, he watched Ronon and Teyla on the other side of the large room questioning three citizens who were tuning what looked like oversized lutes. Rodney suspected this was a clear portent of some evening entertainment. 

“I am Tomogin’el,” said a soft voice.

He felt a slight tug on the sleeve of his science jacket. 

“You seem troubled in a way your companions are not. I think I know why,” said a woman quietly before he had a chance to pull his arm away. 

Rodney narrowed his eyes and observed her unusually direct gaze, one that was so different from the vaguely detached faces of the other citizens. He said, “I didn’t expect anyone here to notice -- well -- with all the frolicking going on.”

“If you come with me, I can show you why my people are unable to engage you in anything beyond observations about pleasant weather,” she said. “It is not far, and you will be back before anything else begins here. But you need to come alone. Too many people, even those who mean us well, will be overwhelming.”

Rodney snorted. “That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“You say you are a scientist,” Tomogin’el said. “Are you not curious about this?” The woman turned towards the activity in the room, and Rodney watched as her face smoothed, its sharpness slipped away. Tomogin’el raised a hand in a little wave at several people standing near the fireplace and gave them a vapid smile. Her eyes were once again clear and sharp when she turned back to Rodney.

Rodney said, “You appear to be much more astute than the rest of your neighbors. All they seem to be interested in is lolling about and chatting about whether the soup is spiced right.”

“You can soon have the answer to why this is, and more. Really, it is quite close, and you will be in no danger,” she said, turning her eyes again to the main activities. 

Rodney watched as tables were removed and chairs were pushed up against the walls; the room looked like it was being prepared for dancing. That was something he didn’t need to see, or heaven forbid, actually do.

When the woman said she would meet him by the well in the back, Rodney thought, “Okay. I will be bold for science.”

* * *

“I had a brother,” Tomogin’el said as they walked down one of the town's side paths. “His name was Kai-Batsur. He was strong and had a kind heart. He disappeared suddenly. This sometimes happens with our people, always those who are grown. It is rare, perhaps a few handfuls of times in a lunar cycle and usually during the warm months. One morning you wake up, and your family member or friend is simply gone.” Tomogin’el stared straight ahead. Rodney had to work at keeping up with the woman’s purposeful stride. “Our leaders, the rest of my people? They will not tell you about this because as soon as these things occur, they appear to forget about that person. It’s as if he or she had never existed.”

“How can someone disappear and no one mentions it?” Rodney said. 

Tomogin'el said, "Your people appeared at the edge of our town, and no one even asked where you'd come from. Didn't you find that strange?" 

That had been odd, Rodney thought. And one more reason his team needed to have a debriefing sooner rather than later. 

Rodney said, “But even in a population that is very, very large, people are usually missed by someone. People would have wondered about your brother. If nothing else, they would have noticed when he didn't up for meals or for his work.”

As they passed a dwelling, Rodney heard a door slam, the excited hooting of grackenbirds, and a male voice saying, "Hello, thirsty birds. Hush, hush."

Tomogin’el shook her head. “This is the custom. In fact, I would be one of those who did not remark upon it, even regarding Kai-Batsur, if I hadn’t -- again, well, you will know more shortly. It is too complicated to tell you here.” She added, “You need to know their silence is not out of malice but because they are unable to say anything about it.”

“Unable? Are you telling me they are being threatened?” Rodney hadn’t heard a word or sensed even a hint of fear or worry from previous conversations with Tarlos' citizens.

Tomogin’el kept her gaze on the path. “Not with violence, at least not directly. Not with words. You’ll understand shortly, I hope.” 

Her phrase "at least not directly" coupled with "violence" was worrisome, and Rodney thought about turning back. 

She stopped at a substantial two-story wooden structure and held the door for him. Rodney hesitated.

“You won’t get some pieces to the puzzle without showing more curiosity than that,” she chided.

Rodney silently agreed and moved past her.

They stepped into a room that contained three long tables and about a dozen wooden chairs. Large barrels with taps of what probably held a beverage or sirun fuel lined the far wall opposite the stone fireplace. The room was warm, reflecting the weather outside, and there wasn’t a fire in the grate.

“Leave your weapon up here." She pointed to a small, lidded basket by a door near the back. "It will only hinder the conversation. You can pick it up when you leave.”

Rodney hoped the look he gave her was suitably withering.

“Don’t you want to know more about why the people who live here are so placid?” Tomogin’el’s voice was calm. “Are you going to be as complacent as your traveling companions?”

Rodney felt a spark of resentment at her assessment of his team; John was under a lot of pressure to get results, Teyla was distracted by personal worries, and Ronon? Well, Rodney was never entirely sure what was going on in Ronon’s mind, but he was certain it was complicated. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Rodney said. “It’s why I came with you.”

“Then leave your weapon here.”

“No.” Rodney turned to leave. “I may be curious, but I’m not stupid.”

“No one there will harm you.” Tomogin’el grabbed his upper arm. “All we want is to tell you about what is going on here, so you will have proof for your people.”

“I want to hear what you have to say.” Rodney pulled his arm away. “But you’re crazy if you think I’m going to give -- ”

Her face got hard, and she quickly pulled out a weapon, some sort of spring-loaded arrow device. Tomogin’el’s hand was steady as she pointed it at his chest. Her voice was steady, too, but also strangely kind despite her threat. “Again, I don’t want to hurt you, but we really need your help, for you to listen.” 

Rodney shook his head. “This is absolutely ludicrous and frankly the wrong way to go about asking for help.”

Her hand didn’t waver. “We don’t have a lot of time. Just listen to what we have to say, and then we’ll both be on our way. You can go back to your companions, and I’ll go back to my children. I’ve already left them alone too long; they are quite young, and too curious, and it is dark.”

Maybe it was the comment about the children that did it. The weapon pointed at his body was certainly added leverage.

Rodney put his Beretta in a small basket on the floor. Tomogin-el shoved it aside with her foot. "You'll have it back shortly," she said. 

She turned the door handle, and Rodney saw a set of descending stairs. There was a very dim light at the bottom. "This was just getting better and better," Rodney scowled. 

Rodney could feel her own weapon nudging the center of his back they made their way down the stairs.

There were eight people in the dimly lit, musty room at the bottom. They’d looked at him with what appeared to be suspicion. Someone hissed, "Hide the map," and Rodney heard the sound of something slamming shut, wood against wood. 

To Rodney’s relief, the woman put her weapon away. “I brought the stranger, Matsolon. He’ll know what to do,” she said. 

The man she called Matsolon frowned. “Tomogin-el, we'd already voted this morning about this, and yet you brought him here anyway. We can handle this on our own. They are escalating, and this person will only be --”" 

"That's why we counter their escalation with our own," Tomogin-el said sharply, "We are talking about our children's future. You are too timid." 

Rodney said, "Listen, if you've got something to tell me, do it, and be quick about it. I have other --" 

That’s when Rodney had heard a loud whoosh, then an explosion. The entire building shuddered, and the lights went out.

For a few moments, no one said anything as they stood in the pitch dark. Then, everyone panicked and started to shout. Rodney felt himself suddenly pushed to one side, and this made him disorientated in the unfamiliar space. 

He scrambled towards the direction he thought the stairs were, grabbed the back of the tunic of someone headed up, and tried to use it as a guide. He felt another person close behind him. He was worried about falling and being crushed by the feet of fellow desperate people clawing their way towards escape.

Rodney could see the flickering light of fire at the top of the stairs. The person in front of him saw it, too, and panicked. He turned around in what Rodney sensed was an attempt to go back downstairs, tapping into a basic instinct to hide from the flames. 

Rodney gave him a push forward, but the terrified man swung at Rodney’s face and hit him hard in the the jaw. The impact flared across the side of Rodney’s face, and he tasted blood. Rodney tried to ignore the pain as he shoved past the man and scrambled upward.

When he reached the top of the stairs, Rodney could see that the intense heat of the fire had already engulfed the back half of the room. The thick smoke made him cough, and the smell of some sort of fuel was heavy in the air. Rodney heard the wooden beams above him creak ominously and felt falling bits of wood and debris. One of the larger embers landed on him, lighting the sleeve of his science jacket on fire. Rodney felt the heat on his arm and smelled the melting fabric. He fumbled with the zipper, tore off his jacket in a panicked motion, and dropped it.

He located the exit more by luck than anything. Rodney finally staggered out into the warm night air and squinted at the outlines of people he hoped were rescuers. 

He could hear the frightened, muted brays of animals, stomping hooves, and loud voices. 

But instead of being offered assistance, he and the people who stumbled out of the burning building with him were grabbed, gagged, and shoved into the back of a waiting wagon. Rodney's shouts and struggles led to the slam of something very hard against his head.

Rodney, smashed up against the rough boards, could hear stifled whimpers coming from a mouth close to his ear and felt a hard elbow press into his gut. He heard another explosion, what sounded like the collapse of the building, more frantic shouting, and then the wagon began to move.

It was the beginning of a long journey.

* * *

Rodney felt the sway of the moving wagon and heard his captors' low murmurs. He couldn't tell if they were talking to each other or to the animals pulling the load. Covered by a rough tarp, it was difficult to determine when one day began and another one ended. His head hurt, his jaw ached, and his lungs felt raw from the smoke. For a while, the gag across his mouth was moist, and the thick liquid oozing down his throat had a metallic taste. When the gag dried, Rodney's tongue felt like it was too large for his mouth.

On what he thought was the second day, Rodney felt the intolerable pressure of his full bladder. He experienced both relief and shame when he let it go. 

Later, Rodney felt only shame when he had no choice but to release his bowels. His companions had also faced this dilemma, and the last stretch of their travel meant the stench and burn of body waste was part of their general misery.

When the wagon stopped and did not move again, Rodney and his companions were unloaded. They stumbled, filthy and blinking, into the low evening light. The gags were removed, and they were finally given water. Blearily, he took the offering and gulped it down, his head pounding in pain.

Their captors, three men and a woman, herded them wordlessly to a small creek. The sentries continued their silence as they tossed them rags and made it apparent what was expected. Standing on the muddy banks, they watched as Rodney and the others stripped and washed the filth from their own bodies. 

Their ripped and stinking clothes were dumped in a pile in the woods, and each captive was given a loose knee-length tunic. 

As they dressed, Rodney watched the shallow, cloudy water became clear again. 

They were led to an encampment where brown tarps stretched over tree branches had made a rough series of tents. A dozen coarse blankets lay on the ground, and there was a pile of small bowls lying next to a tree. Firewood was stacked precariously between two water barrels. The ground was flat, and the dirt was well packed. A large, battered, metal kettle hung over a smoldering fire. Rodney could smell a latrine not too far enough away.

A short time later, about forty-five people appeared on a footpath that ran through a copse of trees. Forty-two of them were barefoot, silent, and looked broken. The other three appeared to be their guards. They were muscled and watchful and had weapons at their sides. 

The incoming captives, eyes on the ground, robotically made their way to the latrine. When they returned, they each picked up a bowl and stood next to the soup kettle, all in eerie silence.

Rodney also took a bowl and watched as a thin version of bean soup was ladled into them. The four abductees with whom he’d arrived looked at the guards and immediately dumped their soup on the ground. Rodney expected the guards to react to this subordinate gesture, but they did nothing. Rodney made the decision to follow his traveling companions' resolute lead. As he poured his soup onto the dirt, he met the guards’ gaze head on.

The guards looked at each other but took no further action. Rodney might have been more intrigued by this interchange if he had not been so exhausted.

As the entire camp bedded down a short time later, Rodney felt his blanket yanked at by woman with rough hands. She gave him a weak, dispassionate kick, and as he turned over, she pulled the cloth out from under him.

This change in position gave Rodney a clear view of the guards and their nearby encampment. It was made up of benches, a single table, and several sturdy wooden lean-tos, open to give them a constant view of the captives. A small pen of grackenbirds was nearby, and Rodney could hear them scratch the dirt and cackle. 

The guards, their weapons in easy reach, talked quietly to each other as they kept their eyes on their charges and ate roasted meat off skewers. The smell of their meal made Rodney's stomach growl and churn.

As he watched them, Rodney ran his tongue along his top back molars and realized he was missing a tooth. The gap felt squishy and odd but not painful. He stood up and glanced at the guards as he took an empty bowl and dipped it into one of the water barrels. He swished the water in his mouth and spit it on the ground. Then, he filled his bowl again and drank his fill, aware that the guards were observing these movements. 

Rodney returned to his place on the ground. 

He spent the night tossing and turning in the warm evening air, trying to arrange his body on the hard dirt in a way that did not hurt. In the morning, Rodney got stiffly to his feet. Along with his fellow abductees, he dipped a bowl into a water barrel, drank his fill, and then used the latrine. Rodney tried to avert his eyes as both men and women did their personal business in front of each other but then realized no one seemed to register the presence of their fellow captives. Even the four people who had arrived with him appeared to be disoriented. Rodney knew they were feeling the same hunger he was, a gnawing that made him nauseated and a little dizzy.

Still, when the soup was served and his four traveling companions again dumped their portion on the ground in what appeared to be defiance, Rodney did the same.

The guards observed his action. Rodney watched one of them turn his head to look at his associates and tilt his head towards Rodney. One of the smaller guards sighed and looked unhappy. Another one simply smiled. The other two had no reaction. It all had the feel of an old story, and Rodney sensed that his boldness had been a mistake.

* * *

It took only until the next evening for Rodney to hold out his bowl with the others. Rodney now understood that he was going to need the calories to stay alive in order to find a way to escape from this hell. Knowing that his body could not tolerate any sort of solid food, he choked down the thin broth and skipped the soft beans. 

He thought back to what had happened that day. The endless, exhausting hours picking beans, weeding plants, filling baskets, and loading the containers into wagons had not been complex. 

But there had also been moments of brutal horror, things which Rodney still couldn't fully comprehend. 

For those who had shown defiance, there had been an additional ordeal, one administered suddenly, systematically, and very personally. 

It was a breakdown process.

That wasn’t very complex either.

* * *

During the first few weeks, things were done to Rodney that he could barely let his brain touch upon.

He had been aware of the possibility for this kind of violence. While it seemed it had been a lifetime ago, Rodney had remembered the Atlantis intensive three-day conference that had been required for all civilians who would be going off-world. The topic had been part of one of the afternoon sessions. He and the other scientists watched the PowerPoint presentation and dutifully took notes, all while keeping their eyes on the screen or the tables in front of them. 

They’d been told the purpose of this type of assault was intimidation, demoralization, and power. The presenter, a tough Marine with a booming voice, had stressed it was just another sort of violence. While Rodney had sat in that bright room, a half-eaten cookie on a napkin next to his keyboard, running his finger through the condensation on the outside of his water glass, he'd intellectually understood that, yes, it was about domination and control. 

But in the camp, as he felt rough dirt grind against his face, knowing the motivation behind this brutal act had not meant a damn thing. He had desperately tried to focus on the rhythmic thud of someone splitting firewood nearby while he struggled against the hands gripping the back of his neck. All Rodney could comprehend were peaks of brutal pain, pinnacles of fear, and the horror of a violation he had never experienced before.

His smart mouth had not helped him, and his keen intellect was worthless, as he was dispassionately shoved against trees, the sides of wagons, or once, on the ground by the creek where each heave shoved his face closer, closer, closer to the water's edge and made Rodney think that perhaps drowning was going to be his escape. 

At first, he was sure he had been injured internally in a way that would probably kill him. The cramping and blood had made it likely. During the days he'd limped through the fields with the other workers, the pain had kept him in a nearly constant state of muzzy half-awareness. Rodney kept expecting a fever to begin and burn him away in a tide of pain.

But a fever never materialized, and Rodney didn’t die.

Rodney stopped looking at the guards, as did the four people who'd arrived with him. This seemed to indicate they were now fully compliant and no longer a source of trouble. Aside from the sharp and sudden beatings to their backs or shoulders when they were too slow filling baskets or too long at the latrine, they were mostly left alone. 

Rodney also felt the taunt rope of stress loosen now that he didn't have to think about the person next to him suddenly being taken to the ground, of how he'd have to scramble away, and avert his eyes. With this tiny mercy, came a little space for Rodney to think.

* * *

Rodney's decision to keep his eyes down and display a lack of curiosity did not stop him from thinking about escape. He knew John would never leave anyone behind if there was even the tiniest chance that person was still drawing breath, and this meant his team was certain Rodney was dead. His only chance of leaving this place, then, was up to him.

But Rodney’s pre-dawn escape plan was thwarted by another captives’s surprisingly assertive betrayal, one he knew was fueled by fear and self-preservation. The man had warned the guards for the probable reward of extra food and gentler treatment. Rodney was stunned both by the rare and sudden noise of the other captive's shout, as well as the slam between his own shoulder blades and fall to the ground. Rodney was dragged to the area by the firewood stack; the subsequent punishment was detached, brutal, and nearly silent.

Afterwards, as Rodney lay on his side, he rhythmically hit his fist against his forehead in an attempt to focus the pain somewhere other than his center. He thought that it was likely he wasn't going to be able to get up off the ground this time. Rodney longed for water, and when someone stepped around him to gather firewood for the morning soup fire, he almost reached out to grab her ankle and beg for something to drink. 

Rodney listened to the grackenbirds chatter and hoot in their pen. He could hear the sound of someone stacking bowls and hitting the side of the soup kettle with the ladle. The wind was picking up a bit, and the leaves on the trees made a dry, papery rustle. Rodney heard the buzz of an insect come closer, then farther away, then closer again. When it landed on his cheek, he half-heartedly swatted it away. 

After a few hours, Rodney slowly sat up and staggered to his feet. He felt heavy, and sticky, and slow, and could feel his pulse in awful places. 

He kept his eyes down and hoped everyone else was doing the same. 

The guards made him go to the fields that day but instead of forcing him to work, they allowed him to sit in the dirt at the end of a row. Rodney spent twelve hours there with his knees pulled up to his chest, his head down, and was grateful for their mercy. 

* * *

Rodney endured the endless baskets of beans, the heavy smell of smoke from the fire pit, the acrid bite of ammonia wafting from the latrine, the predictable soup, the occasional offering of the odd blue fruit, the bright sun, and the light rains. He found a bit of comfort in the rhythms of those days and nights and sensed this was a defeat.

Sometimes, when Rodney looked out over the bean fields, at their lush, green, low bushes shuddering in the light wind, stretching out farther than he could see, he thought, "Wide open spaces, wide open spaces."

Rodney decided, "What I want is a tiny, tiny world that is all my own, where I decide what I eat, where I sleep when I choose, where time is what I decide it to be." 

* * *

Just when Rodney thought he had dulled himself to the misery of the people around him, he was proven wrong.

One of the captives made the inexplicable decision to pull the wooden gate off the pen that held the guards' grackenbirds. The man had screamed and chased the surprised birds into the night, his hands flailing, his thin hair flying behind him like a spectre. 

The guards appeared to be as stunned by the scene as Rodney was, but it didn't take them long to mobilize. 

Rodney watched their lanterns bob about in the darkened woods and heard the birds squawk as they were shoved into bags. The man was just as easily captured, and a short time later, Rodney heard dull thuds, wet and meaty thumps, and desperate cries coming from somewhere near the riverbank. 

Later, the guards dumped the man on the ground near where the soup kettle sat. One of the guards gave the man a kick, and offered up a very rare bit of commentary: "Goddamn bean eater," the guard said, shaking his head, addressing no one in particular. "What the hell was that all about?" 

Rodney thought he understood exactly what the hell that was all about.

He tried to avert his eyes from the terrible mess of a human being, a shell of a man, who was barely breathing. 

For three nights, he listened to the man groan and cry out, smelled the stench from a horrific gut wound, and watched small rodents approach and retreat as they waited for their chance at the softest parts of the man’s body.

Every captive was too terrified to help someone clearly doomed. No one, not even Rodney, offered the man even a tiny bit of solace.

In the end, the man had died alone just few arm's length away from human comfort. 

Rodney felt like his soul left his body then, and that it had flown away like a bird.

* * *

Physical violence became rarer, far less personal, and had ceased being the sort Rodney feared the most. The guards’ fists and feet were only applied to those who were too slow or clumsy, and Rodney was mostly quick enough.

One nondescript day, he dispassionately watched the ensuing activity after a fellow captive dropped dead while in the middle of working a row. Rodney thought it was probably a heart attack. By the time the guards dragged the man away, Rodney had almost forgotten his face. 

It was during an especially hot week when two people fell sick from what Rodney suspected was dirty water. They had worked until they could barely stand, and then one morning, they were gone. Rodney was glad to get one of their blankets to sleep on.

One would have expected that living in such close proximity would spark conversations among the captives, perhaps while they pulled the pods off the bushes, stripped the beans onto tarps to dry in the sun, or as they sometimes huddled together for warmth in the night when the sky was black and silent. They could have told each other their origin stories, talked about their homes, or shared their pain, but instead the captives were nearly silent. At night, Rodney listened to their breathing, their groans as they turned over, and their occasional vague muttering, he thought that even when people were very near, they could still be very, very far apart. 

In the end, Rodney’s world revolved around the beans and their long, sharp, rough pods. The seeds themselves were a vibrant deep purple and white and beautiful when shelled. Sometimes Rodney held a few in his hand and thought about how clean and smooth they looked. If he hadn’t been forced to pick them, Rodney might have also admired the tenacity of their low bushes and their plentiful output.

Rodney's body was just as tenacious, and it didn’t fail. 

But his brain?

In the end, his big brain was useless. Prime Not Prime had long ceased to be a comfort. Math and stars and planets and physics were far from his mind, and Atlantis felt like a fever dream. 

He rarely allowed himself to think of his teammates, of the people he'd known. He was glad they thought he was dead. It was blessing really, because Rodney was really now just a bit of cruft.

He wished he had the ability to simply blink out like a light.

* * *

The days started to get a little shorter and the nights a little colder. The soup didn’t stay hot as long, and those who chopped the firewood had to work later into the evening. The leaves of the bean plants started to curl, get brittle, and developed dark spots. The fibrous pods themselves began to look a little stunted, took longer to turn green, and there weren't enough of them to full the baskets anymore. 

The guards began to squabble amongst themselves, their angry voices low and indecipherable. Rodney could have ignored the guards' unrest except that it seemed to translate into impatience with the workers and was coupled with half-hearted, random violence. Rodney had the bruised cheekbone to show for their dissatisfaction with yesterday's half-empty baskets. 

Shortly after an evening meal, one of the guards advanced on another, hand on her weapon. Rodney vaguely watched their aggressive dance and hoped they would all turn on each other and tear themselves apart. He thought that if this happened, he and his fellow abductees could start running toward the far hills and get away from this place. But as Rodney turned and observed his docile, passive campmates, he realized that without the guard's rules, without the soup, they would just lie down and die. Rodney didn't think he could make the impossible journey alone, and that perhaps he would join them on the ground. 

* * *

It was shortly after another tense exchange among the guards when a group of strangers appeared at the edge of one of the fields.

The strangers pointed and gestured toward the wagons and the beans. Their movements were sharp and quick, and their voices sounded very angry.

Having long ago learned the dangers of showing interest in things that did not pertain to his immediate comfort, Rodney didn’t look up again.

There was some sort of a brief physical altercation among the guards and the visitors that involved shouting and a flurry of gunshots.

The sound and activity frightened a flock of wild birds, and they took to wing, swirling and darting almost as a single entity, their calls loud and sudden.

Rodney cringed at the break in routine and feared what was going to happen next. He and his fellow workers stopped in their rows and waited to be told what to do. He looked down at his hands gripping the handles of the basket, curled his toes in the cool, dark soil, and felt confused. One of the captives in the next row made a keening sound, and Rodney wanted him to shut up, to stop drawing attention their way.

Then someone touched his arm and asked him something complicated. Rodney had a hard time understanding the words, and the kind tone and cadence made him uneasy.

“Dr. McKay?” she said. “Dr. Rodney McKay? Is that you?” 

Rodney didn’t know how to answer the question and kept his eyes down.

“Dr. McKay, it’s me, Dr. Takal.” Her voice was insistent, and Rodney wished she would go away.

“This is one of ours,” she called to her companions. “I need a medic. Now!” 

Rodney shrunk back from the loud flurry of words.

A memory flashed across his brain, and then it was gone. Then –- yes -- Dr. Takal. She was from Atlantis. He thought she was someone he had reprimanded regarding a quick and sloppy lab report about a million years ago. Rodney felt like laughing. A scientist! And a botanist at that! One of them was here, standing right next to him, shouting something about a blanket, about water. 

Another sudden voice said gently, firmly, "No one is going to hurt you." When a hand came near his face, Rodney panicked and reacted with a snap of his teeth. The voice said, "Ouch! Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm a Medical Technician from Atlantis. My name is Sam. You're safe. Hey, it's okay." 

The stranger used way too many words, and Rodney shrank away. The hands got too close again, and Rodney made another attempt to bite them. 

Sam said, "Hey. You're safe. Hey, Doctor McKay, don't -- okay. Take it easy."

There was a lot of bewildering, hurried chatter, some by other people, and some by Sam into his radio earpiece. Rodney felt a moan rise in his throat at the commotion and the noise. He stumbled backward, felt his knees give way, and was suddenly sitting on an overturned basket. With an angry growl, he pushed away the steady hands on either side of him. 

The med tech draped something soft and heavy over Rodney's shoulders, saying, "It'll make you warmer." Rodney tried to shrug it off, and Sam said gently, "Hey, leave it there -- just -- see, my hands are right here, you can see them, right?" 

Rodney nodded, but when Sam tried to put a blood pressure cuff on Rodney's upper arm and shine a penlight in his eyes, Rodney pushed them away. Sam made another attempt, coupling it with calm words, but Rodney snarled and hit his hand. 

Sam moved away, leaving Rodney in the care of the two other people who were with him. 

Not a lot of this made any sense to Rodney, but he did understand one thing.

He thought he might be leaving this place.


	2. Atlantis

Rodney didn’t remember much about the trip back to Atlantis. 

He had a vague recollection of boarding the jumper along with some other people and had taken a seat on one of the benches. As the craft took off, he'd glanced over and seen the outline of the pilot's head and torso against the screen, saw her hands tap her communication device, and adjust something on an overhead monitor. He closed his eyes and took in the low chatter from the radio regarding navigation, ETA, and fuel consumption. The words had a cadence that brushed against his brain like a dream. 

He'd sensed someone sitting next to him on the bench. Sometimes that person moved to kneel in front of him and occasionally said things in a low voice that Rodney tuned out. The person kept offering him something, pushing it towards him, and Rodney continued to smack it back. It wasn't until his arm was wet that he realized it was Sam, the med tech, who had been close to him all that time, and it was a canteen of water Sam had been trying to give him. 

Rodney was very thirsty. He wanted to ask someone to give him the canteen back, but he didn't have the energy to put the words together for the request. 

Despite the exhaustion gnawing away at his brain, Rodney was almost certain he’d succeeded in keeping all the invasive hands at bay. When he felt the jumper come to a stop and heard the rear hatch open, he swatted hands away again and ground out, “Get the hell away from me.” His voice sounded odd and rusty to his own ears.

The Gate Room was all around him. Rodney thought about how the colors were sharp and wrong and how light reflected off things in unfamiliar ways. There were too many people and too much noise.

Before he dropped his eyes, Rodney got a quick glimpse of Elizabeth and John. They stood next to Carson, who was near a gurney and a three-person med team.

He looked up again as Carson and the med team began to come closer. Rodney tensed and stepped back, bumping into someone standing behind him. The contact made him shudder, and he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. A voice very close to him said, "Hey, hey, it's me. It's Med Tech Sam. It's okay, Doctor McKay."

John began to walk towards him, his face tense and emotionless. It was the way John looked when faced with a difficult situation and was determined to do the right thing in the right way.

Rodney drifted a bit away then and felt his brain move a little off-center. Carson must have said something to John because John stopped his approach.

Carson put his hands out, palms up, and said quietly, “Rodney, let me help you.“ 

Rodney shook his head. 

Carson subtly jerked his head towards the med team, and they stepped further back as well. Carson waited a moment and said, “Will you come with me to the infirmary?”

All Rodney wanted was to be back in the blazing sun, pulling bean pods off of plants, and if it was a good day, trying to count the steps to the end of the row. 

“No gurney,” Rodney said.

“Rodney –- "

“No,” he growled. “No. No!”

Carson turned to John and said something. John clenched his fists at his side, and he nodded tersely. Then John tilted his head and said something into his radio headpiece.

Looking at Rodney, Carson said calmly, “I’ll walk with you. No one else will be in the halls.” Carson added, “Please” and moved forward a few steps. 

Rodney remained still. 

When Carson gently put his hand on his arm, Rodney flinched, but he didn’t pull completely away.

* * *

Slap, slap, slap. Rodney focused on the sound his bare feet made on the smooth, cool floor of the corridor.

He thought they must have walked the length of four bean fields by now. He kept his head down and ignored Carson.

* * *

When they arrived at the infirmary, Rodney was relieved to see they were alone.

Carson pulled the screen around the back bay, and Rodney was glad for the shelter.

A set of scrubs lay the examination table. Rodney shoved the clothes onto the floor. 

He shook off Carson's offer of help as he eased himself onto the table. As Carson picked the clean scrubs up and put them in the laundry bin, Rodney glanced down at his lap. Rodney's threadbare tunic barely covered his knees. He could see his filthy lower legs and his bare feet dark with grime. There in the pristine infirmary, they looked obscenely dirty.

"How are you doing?" Carson asked. Rodney was glad the doctor kept his hands where he could see them. 

Rodney said, "I'm thirsty." 

"I can help you with that." Carson poured water from a tan plastic pitcher into a paper cup and handed it to Rodney. Rodney gratefully gulped it down. The doctor put the pitcher on the small stool next to the exam table. 

"Rodney, are you feeling lightheaded at all?" Carson asked. 

Rodney stared at him. 

"Rodney?" said Carson quietly. "Do you know where you are?"

"What?" 

"Do you know where you are?"

"The infirmary," Rodney said. "That's where you said we were going."

"Yes, that's what I said, and that's where we are." Carson watched his face. "On Atlantis." 

Rodney looked just past Carson's shoulder and stared at the water dispenser at the end of the counter. "Yes," Rodney said. "Atlantis."

"Do you want anyone else here with you right now, Rodney?" 

What a stupid question. Rodney didn't even want Carson there. 

"What?" Rodney asked. 

"Do you want someone to be here with you during the exam I need to do," Carson said. "I'll be...

Rodney switched his brain off and tuned out what Carson was saying. The doctor was using a lot of words. Rodney felt a dullness creep over his brain. 

"... and if you change your mind at any point, say, "Stop, I need someone here with me," Carson said. "It could be a friend, someone on your team, Sam the Med Tech, or one of the nurses. We'll get that person here immediately." 

Carson was still talking! All Rodney wanted right now was more water. 

"Do you understand?" Carson looked at him intently. "About asking me for what you need?" 

What had Carson just asked? Rodney couldn't remember. "Sure," he said. "That." He added, "I'm thirsty."

Rodney picked up the pitcher. His hands were shaking, and he could feel Carson's eyes on him. While Rodney managed to get most of the water in the cup, some of it ran down the side of his lower left leg, making a small trickle in the grime. Carson took the pitcher from him, set it aside, and said, "Okay. I'll be back in a snap. First, I'm going to wash my hands. You'll be able to see me right over there."

Rodney didn't look at Carson. Instead, he looked around and stared at the pale walls and the gleaming metal cabinetry. Everything was the opposite of the camp; sharp lines, clean, so familiar, yet so odd. It all made Rodney’s eyes ache. 

He could hear the water running in the nearby sink, and he smelled the tang of the soap. 

Rodney looked down at the floor and saw his cup and the pitcher laying there. Had he done that? 

The doctor wheeled over a med tray covered by a light blue paper. Carson glanced down at the cup and pitcher. Without saying anything, he picked both up and put them on the stool. He pulled out a large absorbent pad, laid it over the water, then pushed the mess aside with his shoe. 

Carson pulled on some disposable gloves. Rodney thought the doctor might have said something, but his brain shorted out again for a moment.

"I'm going to start with a blood test. Then, we'll move on to some other things," Carson said, picking up something off of the med tray. He covered the tray back up again with the blue paper, his hands slow and careful. 

He didn’t pull away as Carson swabbed the inside of Rodney’s elbow with an antiseptic towelette. The contact point felt very, very cold and oddly sharp. Rodney wondered if moisture and metal could be the same thing at the same time, a sort of alchemy. He put his finger on the wet, glistening spot for a moment, lightly rubbed it, and then put his hand back down. 

Carson waited a moment, then opened another towelette packet, swabbed Rodney's skin again, and deftly slipped a needle into his vein. Rodney raised his hand again, and Carson tensed slightly. Rodney didn't touch his own skin this time but instead lightly put a finger on the tubing warm with his own blood. Carson watched his face as the vials filled. 

Carson put the last glass container in the stand, applied a small gauze to the needle mark, and wrapped a bit of tape around Rodney's elbow. 

He gently put his fingers on Rodney’s wrist, and Rodney allowed him to take his pulse.

He started to reach up to Rodney's cheekbone with his fingertips, and Rodney pulled away. 

"Sorry, I should have asked first," Carson said quietly. 

Rodney didn't answer him.

Carson said, "That bruise looks painful." 

Rodney ignored him and looked over the doctor's shoulder. He felt his chest constrict a little bit, and it made him cough. He turned his head, spat onto the paper covering the exam table, and then lowered his chin to his chest. 

Carson smoothly handed him an emesis basin and a disposable towel. "You okay?" Carson asked. 

Rodney took a deep breath and nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Carson lay an absorbent pad over the damp spot. 

Carson took out a thermometer and held it up. Rodney turned his head, allowing the doctor access to his ear. As Carson waited for the results, he said, “When I'm done with this, I'll need to have you -- ” 

Rodney closed his eyes and hummed.

The room was quiet as Carson took the thermometer out of Rodney’s ear and recorded the results. 

Carson took the emesis basin from him and set it within easy reach on the stool. "I'm going to need to have you lie down. Is that okay with --" Carson said, as put his hands on Rodney's lower legs. 

Rodney barked, “No!” 

Carson halted. “I apologize. I moved too fast." 

Rodney turned away from the doctor and didn't reply. 

"I need to examine you, get you under the scanner.” Carson was very still. "Do you want me to get someone here to be with you? All you need to do is tell me who, and I can get that person or persons here immediately."

“No!" Rodney stared straight ahead. "I don't want any of those things. No person or persons, no scanner, no more of any of this.”

“I’ve already talked a bit on the radio to some of the team who found you.” Carson’s voice was soft. “And I know --”

“No. You don’t know.” Rodney said, not looking at the doctor. “You can’t -- don't think for a moment that you do. You don't know anything!”

“I understand that I don’t know everything," Carson said. "But please let me help you. I’m worried you’re hurt in places that aren’t -- which aren’t easy to see. There could be a danger that --”

Rodney cut him off. “I don’t want -- I don’t.” Rodney stopped. There were too many words, and they felt like they were coming out of his mouth in the wrong order. “If there was something very wrong, I’d be dead by now. Because the last time was -- " Rodney realized he didn't know how long he'd been gone. "A couple of months ago," he told Carson, wondering if his estimate was close. 

Rodney could hear Carson breathing, the sound of one of the small refrigeration units clicking on, and a soft beeping from something in Carson's lab coat pocket. The doctor pulled off his gloves and dropped them into the trash. Carson reached into his pocket and the beeping stopped. "Rodney, please --" 

Suddenly, the doctor's felicitous treatment and calm voice made Rodney very angry. “I want to go back to my quarters. Alone!”

“Rodney, you can’t do that.” Carson started to put his hand on his arm, and Rodney pulled away. 

“Stop touching me!” Rodney snapped. "Stop. You told me to tell you to stop, and I'm telling you to stop. Stop."

“What can I do?” Carson asked. “What do you need right now?”

“To be left alone.”

“Even by your team? Even John? I know they have been very worried.”

“I don’t –- just, no one -- I can’t.” Rodney scratched the back of his hand and studied the track his broken, dirty nails made. “I want to be left alone. You can’t make me stay here, you -- you can’t make me do anything.” His throat ached and felt tight with all those words. Rodney felt a sting behind his eyes and blinked.

Carson said, “I’m your doctor and your friend, and I cannot let you walk out of here without further examination.”

Rodney muttered, “Not my job –- it’s not my job to help you do your job -- I won’t -- ”

Carson put his hands in his pockets, and Rodney felt a little better. “You know I can’t clear you for duty without proper care. You won’t be able to return to your work, the labs.”

“My work -- I -- I can’t imagine why you think I would care about my job anymore,” Rodney said. His eyes felt prickly, watery, and for a moment, it was all Rodney could do but concentrate on taking the next breath.

There was a long pause. Carson said, “I could make you stay.”

“Restrain me?" Rodney snarled. “Give security a call. You’ll need it.” His voice was hoarse, and the words felt like they were choking him.

Carson said. “Please stay here for a bit then, okay? We’ll work something out.”

“No,” Rodney said. “I’m civilian, not military. You can’t keep me here.”

“Rodney, you need -- “

Rodney hated Carson’s reasonable voice and tried to tune it out by humming some more.

“Let me get you another blanket.” Carson got one out of a cabinet and draped it over Rodney’s shoulders. “Can I get you anything to eat?" 

Rodney ignored him and pulled the blanket closer. 

"Okay then. Now, I'll be back in a little while,” Carson said. “Please rest a bit. No one will bother you. I promise.” Carson pushed the screen aside, giving him a clear sight line across the room. “I’m just going to stand over here near the other bay.” 

When Rodney didn't respond, he slowly walked over to the other side of the room. Carson kept his eyes on Rodney as he tapped his radio headpiece. He could see Carson’s mouth move and see his controlled gestures. He couldn’t hear anything the doctor was saying.

Rodney looked away. He studied the floor, the walls in the subtle light, ran his hand along the smooth, clean bed covering, and he took a shaky breath. Everything felt alien, off-kilter. He felt himself drift away a bit.

After a while, Carson came back, and he was again too close.

“Rodney, let me –- “

“No.”

“At least stay here tonight. You’re exhausted, and this is likely making it hard for you to make good decisions.”

“No.”

“Just a little while longer?" 

"I want a shower," Rodney said. 

"A shower? That's not a good idea. There are forensic concerns -- " 

"I know all about forensic concerns. I used to be a scientist," Rodney growled. "You asked me what I want. And I want a shower. Or were you lying to me?" 

"No. I wasn't lying. But Rodney, you know -- " 

"I want a shower. You asked me what I needed right now, and that's what I need. A shower. I want a shower." 

He heard Carson take a deep breath and then say, "How about if you take a moment. I will be back in a bit.”

Carson dimmed the lights a bit more, and Rodney could hear him walk away. It made Rodney feel better, this little twilight, no one asking him questions.

Rodney eased himself down on the exam table. His head made a crinkly sound as it touched the paper pillowcase, and it reminded Rodney of the rattle of dried beans laid out on a tarp to dry in the sun. It made him feel calmer. He fought sleep as he kept his eyes on the door, but he thought he had probably stupidly dozed off at one point. 

When Carson came back into the room, the doctor said, “Okay. Rodney, you said you wanted a shower.”

"Yes. That's what I want," Rodney said. "And I don't want you to bother me there." He carefully eased himself off the bed, felt his feet touch the floor, and got a feel for his balance. Rodney felt like biting something as he shook off the doctor’s offered arm. The blanket slipped off his shoulders and fell onto the floor.

Big enough for a wheelchair, the infirmary’s shower was far larger than the ones in the Atlantis personal quarters. Someone had put a pile of towels and washcloths, along with clean scrubs, on the stool next to the tiled enclosure.

“Rodney,” Carson said, his voice echoed a bit in the enclosed space. “You can leave your clothes on the floor. I will take them away.” Carson cleared his throat. “Let me help you?”

Rodney shook his head and stood still for a while. He reached out and turned on the water. Then, he slowly took off the tunic and shivered in the slightly cool air. 

For a moment, his brain flickered back to the day he had first arrived at the camp, disorientated, naked, the skin on his legs burning with piss and shit as he had stepped into the dirty water of the river. 

Rodney didn’t look at Carson. “See, still in one piece,” he said, turning his back. He supposed Carson was looking at his shoulders, and the doctor’s hitched breath made him furious.

“Leave me alone.” Rodney stepped into the water and pulled the curtain between them.

He could see Carson’s outline through the curtain. “Go away,” he said.

“Rodney,” Carson said.

“Something wrong with your hearing?” Rodney snapped. “Go away.”

Rodney saw Carson’s shadow reach down to pick his clothes up on the floor, then slip aside, and leave. 

Rodney took a deep breath. Grabbing a washcloth, he began to clean the grime from his body. He was able to reach most of it fairly easily, but had to stretch the washcloth behind him and pull it back and forth to get to parts of his back. Rodney knew he was not entirely successful in reaching all the spots. He could feel the scars on his upper shoulders as ridges under the cloth, and he rubbed those extra hard.

When the water began run clear at his feet, he turned it off and stepped out of the shower enclosure.

There was toothpaste in a small paper cup and a toothbrush on the edge of the sink. Had it been there before? Rodney couldn’t remember.

He turned the faucet on again in the shower. Rodney stepped back into the stream of water, pulled the curtain shut, and spent ten minutes brushing his teeth. He let the water run into his mouth and used a delicate touch around the place where his top molar used to be. His gums bled a little, and he kept rinsing and spitting until the water in his hand wasn't slightly pink anymore. 

Shutting off the faucet, he shivered as he squeezed the water out of his long thin hair, the ends which just brushed the top of his shoulders. 

Rodney dried his body with a towel, rubbing vigorously. He dabbed it against his teeth and tender gums and left it on the tiled floor. He put on the scrubs and stepped out into the main room. 

Carson had been hovering by the desk closest to the bathroom door. He glanced down at his computer screen and quickly turned the monitor off.

"Rodney --" 

Rodney said, "You should turn up the goddamn heat in this goddamn place. It's as cold as goddamn Siberia in this goddamn place." Rodney looked around for his blanket. "Goddammit." 

"I'm here to help you, Rodney." Carson put his hands out, palms up. He tried to make eye contact with Rodney. “What can I get you?" 

Rodney held his eyes for a moment and then looked away towards the exit. "Just some goddamn heat that's alone," Rodney said. "Some goddamn heat."

"I'm going to get you a blanket. It's right over here." Carson took a fresh blanket off of a nearby bed and handed it to Rodney, his movements deliberate and slow. "Any chance you’ve changed your mind and will stay here tonight? Because you can do that, you know?” His gaze was pointed. “If you change your mind, it would be your decision.”

Rodney shook his head.

After a short silence, Carson said, “It’s against all my medical advice, but if you want to leave, you can do that.” He waited a moment. 

Rodney felt a great sense of relief wash over him and nodded. 

“I do have these stipulations, however.” Carson reached over to his desk and picked up a radio earpiece. He said, “Someone is going to check in with you on this twice a day. When they do, you must answer them. If you don’t, someone will come into your room to find out why.” 

Carson held the earpiece out. Rodney took it and started towards the door.

Carson said, “You need to let me know you understand about the radio, about the check-ins.”

Rodney nodded.

“It goes both ways, Rodney,” Carson said. “If you need assistance of any sort, or someone to talk to about anything, no matter the time of day or night, all you need to do is ask.”

Rodney felt himself drifting, of moving out of his body, of floating.

“Rodney,” Carson said, and the doctor’s voice brought him back down. “Do you agree to the rules about the radio?”

Rodney nodded again. 

"I need to hear you say it."

"I agree to the rules about the radio," Rodney said, mimicking the doctor's clear and careful tone. 

"Do you want me or anyone else to walk with you?" Carson asked. 

"Why? Unless my absence here these past few weeks -- " Rodney said. "Or months -- means you packed up all my stuff, and I now have to bunk in one of the temporary guest quarters, then I think I know my way to my own place." 

He left without looking at Carson's face. 

* * *

Rodney had Atlantis' corridors to himself. 

It felt odd to have ceilings above his head, and it wasn’t right not to be able to see the stars above. The lights in the corridor were not as soft and muted as he remembered them being and were nothing like moonlight. 

When he got to the door of his quarters, he put his forehead briefly against the wall. The hallway was still empty when he opened his eyes. He took a deep breath and went inside his quarters, the door sliding shut behind him.

The room had both the feel of a space without enough warmth, of abandonment, and of a place Rodney had just stepped away from. He thought he could just catch a glimpse of his ghost as it picked up a backpack and headed out the door, a flickering shadow, an unsuspecting spirit who hoped to grab a cup of coffee before meeting his team in the jumper bay. 

Rodney had to lay the palm of a hand on the cool wall behind him to ground himself. 

He saw that someone had made up his bed in a far neater fashion then he would have ever left it, and there were several folded blankets, as well as a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt laying on the pillow. A tray sat on the desk and on it was a bowl of broth, a cup of green gelatin, and a glass of water.

Rodney put the radio earpiece on his nightstand as it chirped. He ignored it as he went to use the toilet. After flushing, he stared down at the shiny metal toilet bowl and the clear water there. He looked over at the hand towel hanging on the bar. It was white and clean. He leaned over to sniff the towel and smelled the slight odor of bleach. Rodney reached out to touch it, but when he saw his rough, ragged fingernails, he pulled his hands back. 

He heard the radio again. Rodney took off the scrubs he'd put on after his shower and kicked them into a corner. He pulled on the sweatpants and t-shirt. When the radio buzzed again, Rodney picked it up, and put it up to his ear.

“Rodney," Carson said. "Say something to let me know you’re all right.” 

“Go away,” Rodney said. He put the headpiece on his desk. 

He picked up the bowl of broth. Skipping the spoon, he drank about half of it. It was lukewarm and savory. He could feel each swallow as a track of liquid moving down into his body and the very vague sting of the salt against his gums. He ate the gelatin cubes with his hands and rubbed his sticky palms on his sweatpants.

He turned the thermostat way up, flicked off the light, and climbed into bed.

Rodney’s sleep was dreamless. 

* * *

It took Rodney a long moment to get his bearings when he opened his eyes. He was warm and comfortable, something he hadn’t been in a long time. 

Sunlight streamed through the slightly smudged window, and this made Rodney almost miss the familiar direct, harsher sunlight of the bean fields.

Rodney went into the bathroom, sat down, and used the toilet. His gut felt a bit tender but not terrible. 

After he finished, he stood up, and looked in the mirror. A stranger looked back at him. The creature was bearded and gaunt. Its hair was lanky, scraggly, and there was a badly healed scar along its hairline, a reminder of that failed escape. Rodney could almost see the shadows of knuckles in the garish black and green bruise on the stranger's cheekbone. 

He heard a vibrating noise. It took Rodney a moment to figure out what where it was coming from. Right. The radio headpiece on his desk. Rodney put it on and tapped it. “What?”

Carson said, “Just checking in with you.”

Rodney said, “I’m here.”

“Would you like me to stop over? I can bring you something to eat.”

Rodney walked over to the window. He could see the sun shining brightly on the water below. 

“Rodney,” Carson said. “What do you want me to do?”

Rodney said, “Bring me some food.”

Fifteen minutes later, Carson was at his quarters. Wordlessly, Rodney took the tray from him, shut the door, and left the doctor standing in the hallway.

Cream of wheat, plain. A banana. Weak tea. Rodney ate it all, and after he put his spoon down, he thought a nap sounded good.

Rodney got onto his bed and went back to sleep. 

He awoke with a bit of a belly ache. 

When Carson called him by radio in the late afternoon, Rodney said, “I'm not hungry." 

Carson asked, “Did that earlier food sit all right with you? No problems with any sort of intestinal difficulties, issues using the toilet –- “

“Nothing terrible." Rodney rubbed his belly and grimaced. 

"Let me bring something by," Carson said. "Something small." 

When Carson brought a tray, Rodney handed him the dirty dishes from the previous meal, and took the offered food. He thought Carson might have been about to say something as Rodney shut the door. 

He looked down at the tray. He'd been downgraded; Carson had brought him more gelatin and more plain broth. 

Rodney wasn’t certain how he spent the rest of the evening, but he knew it had involved standing in the clean water of his glorious shower.

Rodney's sleep that night was again dreamless, deep, without light, and without form. 

* * *

In the morning, Carson was back on the radio. Rodney hated the intrusion. 

“Rodney, I wanted to let you know your blood work came back within normal ranges. Nothing immediately worrisome, no glaring abnormalities. But I’m concerned about your low levels of vitamin C and some routine things.”

Rodney nodded and then realized Carson couldn’t see the gesture. “Yes, I hear you,” he said.

“Do I have your permission to come to your room, check your blood pressure, and give you some routine medications, specifically vitamins." Carson said. "I'd also like to do a very brief exam.”

Rodney said, "Aside from the pills, you did all that when I was in the infirmary yesterday."

"That was two days ago, not yesterday," Carson said gently. 

Rodney didn't know what to say to that. 

Carson said, "The exam will not be much more than a repeat of that one. It would be good to have a baseline." 

Rodney didn’t say anything. Carson waited and then said, “I’ll bring hot broth." 

“Yes,” Rodney said. “You can do that. But you have to bring toast, too.”

"Any problems with your gut last night? With the things you ate last night?" 

Rodney scowled. "Stop asking me stuff about that." 

"Rodney, it's important." 

"It's also personal." 

"I'm your doctor. That means I ask you personal things." 

"I'm fine." 

"Rodney." 

"No. The jello and broth didn't cause me any problems." 

"I'll be by in bit, then." 

When Carson arrived, he was carrying three things. 

The first one was a meal tray which he put on the desk. "I brought you a meal," he said unnecessarily. 

Then, he put a small duffle bag on the floor, saying "Some provisions." 

Carson had also brought along his med field kit. “It’s not the first time I’ve made a house call, Rodney,” he said with a slight smile. 

Rodney looked at the food tray. On it was a slice of plain toast and a cup of broth with appeared to have the exciting addition of a few little noodles. When Rodney reached for the spoon, Carson said, "I think you should wash your hands first." 

There was a silence. Carson said, "I know it's not been something that's understandably not been a concern of yours for a while but you need to wash your hands more often, especially after using the toilet." 

There was a long silence. 

Rodney snapped, "First, you understand nothing. Second, I was a scientist and know all about microbes. Third, I'm not --" He looked down at his fingers, then went into the bathroom, turned on the sink, and scrubbed his hands. When he was done, Carson did the same. 

Rodney walked over to his desk, drank his soup, and used the spoon to scoop up the little pale noodles. He knew Carson had finished in the other room and was quietly watching him from the door. Rodney pushed the toast aside to eat later.

"Fine. Do what you came here to do," Rodney said, remaining on his feet.

Carson moved slowly as he took Rodney’s temperature. The doctor took the thermometer out of Rodney's ear and glanced at the reading. “Looks fine.”

Carson showed Rodney his hands. “I’m going to feel your neck, the glands there.”

Rodney nodded. As Carson’s hands moved up and down his neck, he could feel the doctor’s eyes on him. Rodney kept his own gaze on the wall behind him. His tongue worked the empty space where his molar had been, and he tried to avoid the Carson's careful gaze.

Carson took out the blood pressure cuff. “Sit down?”

Rodney scowled.

“It skews the results if you’re standing,” Carson said. “You know that.”

Rodney sat down at the edge of his mattress. Carson pulled over Rodney's desk chair and sat down. Carson took the cuff reading and wrote it down. “A little high. We need to keep an eye on it.” Carson touched the scar on Rodney’s forehead, and he grimaced. “That had to have been quite painful. Did you lose consciousness?”

Rodney shrugged.

Carson asked, “Is that a yes or a no?”

“It’s a yes.”

“Any blurred vision, hearing problems, headaches?

Rodney shook his head, trying to remember what he'd felt at the time.

Carson typed something into his tablet. He warmed the stethoscope in his hands. “I’d like to take a listen to your chest and belly,” he said. “You need to lie down for that. I’ll be quick.”

Rodney thought about this for a moment. He asked, “You’ll go away then?”

Carson nodded. “Yes. I’ll go away then.”

Rodney eased himself onto his back and pulled his blanket up to his waist.

Carson lifted his t-shirt and listened to his chest. He put the stethoscope away, and put his hands in the air, his palms facing Rodney. “Can I touch your belly?”

Rodney grimaced, and Carson said, “I’ll be quick.”

Rodney kept his hands on the edge of the blanket and nodded.

As Carson palpated his abdomen, his hands were gentle yet forceful. He said, “Any tenderness?”

Rodney shook his head. 

“I’m not feeling anything to be concerned about.” Carson put the stethoscope on again. “I’m going to take a listen. Is that okay?”

Rodney nodded. 

Carson put the stethoscope's diaphragm on Rodney's belly, moving it to several spots. After a few moments, Carson asked, “Are you sleeping all right?”

“Fine.” It was the truth. 

“Rodney, I need to know something," Carson’s voice was casual. "Have you had thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself in any way?” He watched Rodney’s face closely as he moved the diaphragm on Rodney’s skin.

Rodney looked away, to the window, to the sunlight. “I didn’t survive a couple of months being a goddamn farmer to get back here and kill myself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“A couple of –- ?“ Carson put the stethoscope away and helped Rodney sit back up. Rodney pulled his t-shirt back down. “Well. As your doctor, and your friend, I needed to ask that, because -– “

“I know,” Rodney said. “Please leave.”

* * *

After Carson had left, Rodney discovered the doctor had left him a small bottle of vitamins along with a short note regarding dosage and timing. 

Rodney opened up the duffle bag the doctor had brought. It contained about a dozen single-serving applesauces, some aseptic cartons of a strawberry nutrition drink, individually wrapped crackers, and small peanut butter packets. Rodney hid the bag under the bed. 

He spent the day sitting at his desk and staring out the window at the water. When the evening check-in call came on the radio, Rodney answered with one sentence. “Bring me hot food.”

* * *

That night, Rodney dreamed about the man who had silently died alone by the soup kettle. He had looked a bit like Ronon, and this had filled Rodney with additional sorrow. He awoke with tears on his cheeks.

* * *

When Rodney answered his morning check-in call, he said, “I don’t want any more soup.”

“And good morning to you, too,” Carson said. 

After a long silence, Carson said, “Rodney?”

“Yeah.”

“Up for a wee visit?” Carson said. “I could bring you something to read. I could stay for a bit. I’ve got some paperwork to finish up myself.”

Rodney said, “No. I don't want that.” He thought for a moment. “But bring me eggs. And toast.”

There was silence on Carson’s end. Then, he said, “Okay.”

When the doctor arrived, Rodney took the tray. “I’m -- don’t -- ahh, thank you.” Rodney shut the door.

He spent the rest of the afternoon watching the clock on his nightstand. He marveled at the way the numbers turned from 13:01, to 13:02, to 13:03, and kept moving on. During all this time, the weather didn't matter, and the amount of sunlight left in the day was irrelevant. 

But, best of all, Rodney didn't have to do anything. No one barked at him to get moving, do one raised their hand against him, and no one interfered with him in monstrous ways. 

When Carson called on the day's second radio check in. Rodney declined the offer of additional food with a terse, "No, thank you," and instead dined on applesauce, crackers, and strawberry drink.

* * *

That night, he dreamed of the dying man again. This time, the man had done something in it that hadn't ever actually happened. He'd looked directly at Rodney, begged for help, asked for Rodney to at least give him some water: "Please, please, Doctor Rodney McKay," he'd moaned. 

As Rodney stared at his face, he wondered if the man had had a family, a partner maybe, a father, a sister. A good friend. As the man's hands scrabbled in the dirt, drawing pebbles into his grip, Rodney felt his brain switch off. 

Rodney awoke with a jerk of his entire body. He felt hot and cold and hot again, and his heart was beating so hard Rodney was sure his t-shirt must be moving in time to the thumps.

He sat up in the dark, put his head in his hands, and tried to get his breathing under control. It didn't work. Rodney fumbled with the radio headpiece and tapped it.

There was an immediate response. “Rodney.” It was John’s voice.

Rodney didn’t know what to think about that. Of course. Well, Carson couldn’t be there all the time.

“Would you like me to come and sit with you awhile?” John asked. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” 

His chest heaved, and Rodney felt a little dizzy. “Okay,” he choked, his fingers pulling and tangling in his clothes.

Almost immediately, Rodney heard the chime to his door. He got up, walked across the room, and rested his forehead against the wall next to the door. He felt weak and afraid and stupid and hated all of those things.

“Rodney, can I come in?” John asked, his voice muted.

“Yes,” Rodney said.

The door opened, and the cone of light from the corridor made John look like a simple outline. Rodney blinked. John stepped in, and the door shut behind him, sending the room back into the grey twilight. “Hey,” he said. “Where do you want me to sit?”

Rodney waved his hand towards the chair by the desk and realized John couldn’t see the gesture in the dark. “The chair,” Rodney’s voice cracked.

John slowly walked to the nightstand, and he turned the bedside light onto its dimmest setting. He had several Sudoku books and a pencil in his hand. Easing himself into the chair, he watched as Rodney sat down on the bed.

Rodney looked down at his own hands. They were shaking.

“Do you need Carson for anything?” John asked. “He can be here in a few minutes. I can step out when he gets here.”

Rodney shook his head. He looked just past John, to the left of the man’s ear, and felt himself begin to calm. The room was reassuringly quiet. 

John picked up one of the Sudoku books and opened it.

Rodney felt sleepy. He closed his eyes as he listened to the soft noise of another person breathing in his space, of John’s pencil on paper, and the shift of his body in the desk chair. Rodney felt warm, took a long, deep breath and eased himself down on the mattress, its softness nestled his body. 

Rodney thought he must have fallen asleep for a little while. He turned his head to look at his clock. It was just after 04:00. The old Rodney would probably think this predawn hour would be a good time to be in the lab, unfettered by human demands. But the thing he was now, this ill-fitting creature? Rodney didn’t even know that man anymore.

Then, Rodney remembered John had come to his room. He shifted in his bed, and turned his head. Rodney could see John sitting in his chair, a muted shape in the half-light. He was not looking at Rodney, but staring at the wall near the bathroom. His face was drawn, and the skin around his eyes was tight. Rodney thought he looked very tired.

Rodney said, “John.”

“Yes.”

“You’re still here.”

“Yes, I am. Is that okay?”

Rodney thought about this for a little while and decided it was acceptable. Rodney rolled over to face the wall, and he didn’t answer John’s question.

He felt himself drift off to sleep again.

* * *

When Rodney awoke next, the soft early morning dark was still lingering. There was an additional blanket over him.

John was gone.

The Sudoku books and pencil were on the table next to the bed, along with a plastic pitcher of water and a clean glass. 

Rodney turned over, went back to sleep, and thought he was glad to be alone again.

* * *

While sitting on the edge of his bed the next morning, Rodney remembered the stink of the camp, the shit in the latrines, the miasma of unwashed bodies, and the incessant smell of wood smoke. He thought fear and hopelessness must have a scent as well. 

Rodney thought his quarters, especially his bed sheets, had a slightly stale odor. He supposed he'd been back in Atlantis and its ventilation system long enough for his sense of smell to re-calibrate itself. 

Rodney needed some fresh air.

He got up, walked over to his window, and tried to open it. It didn’t budge, and Rodney hit the frame with his fist. 

He stood there for a long time, his hand aching a little. 

He stripped, dropped his clothes on the ground, and took a twenty-minute shower; the clean water felt wonderful.

Rodney dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist. 

He looked down at his bed, at the wrinkled twisted sheets, musky with dried sweat and colored with a lingering grime from the camp. Even all the showers hadn't completely eradicated it. He could almost feel the haze of it all in his pores. Rodney pulled the sheets off the bed and dropped them in a heap on the floor. Then, he gathered up his dirty clothing and put the entire pile by the door.

As he did this, he thought that the Rodney of the past would find doing laundry a simple, routine chore. The Rodney now either had to ask for help or take the dirty clothes to the laundry service himself. He sat on the edge of his bare mattress, towel around his waist, and thought about his dilemma. 

After a while, he stood up, retrieved the dirty towels from the heap, and hung them back up in the bathroom.

He fished out the one of the pairs of sweatpants, along with a t-shirt, folded them back up, and put them on the shelf. 

Rodney picked up a pair of boxers, his other pair of sweatpants, his last dirty t-shirt, and pulled them on.

Then, he put the soiled sheets back on the bed. 

He didn’t want anything to do with the scrubs he’d worn back from the infirmary and left them on the floor.

He didn't even have enough for a pile anymore. 

Exhausted, Rodney answered the morning check-in with a curt, “Yes. I’m here.”

Rodney spent the day eating some of the food from the duffle bag Carson brought and working on the puzzles in John's Sudoku books. 

Then, he tried to smooth out his worn sheets, climbed into bed, and took another nap. 

* * *

Bleary with too much sleep, Rodney kicked the blankets off his feet.

His bedside clock read 20:36. It was almost night again.

The minutes and hours. Rodney knew what time meant in Atlantis, its twenty-four hour cycle a once-familiar reality.

But the actual date? Rodney realized he had no idea what is was. This information, he knew, would be on his laptop.

After powering it up, he looked at little numbers on the top of the screen in the corner. 

Rodney couldn’t stop staring.

What the hell?

Ten months?

He’d been gone ten months? He thought it had been more like three, maybe four. 

The numbers blurred. He shoved the laptop onto the floor, and it hit the edge of the bookcase with a hard thump.

Rodney felt his chest constrict. He closed his eyes, put his chin down, and tried to catch a breath. "No-no-no-no-no."

He heard the radio earpiece buzz. Had he touched it? Rodney couldn’t remember. He could hear a voice saying something but couldn’t understand what the words were.

“I need. I need,” Rodney said, his voice broke on the last word. He bit the inside of his mouth and tasted blood. “I need -- ”

“What do you need, Rodney?” It was Elizabeth. Of course, John and Carson couldn't answer the radio all the time! They had jobs to do, Atlantis to run! Elizabeth did, too! Why was she on his radio? Why did he even have this stupid thing? 

Rodney concentrated on breathing. Each attempt felt as if moths were flitting desperately in his chest, their wings becoming powder in an effort to escape.

“Rodney?” Elizabeth said. “What do you need?” Her voice sounded farther away than it had before. Rodney felt like he was listening to the static of a radio between stations. 

“I don’t know,” Rodney said. He felt his body turning inward, folding into too many odd-shaped parts, and there was a buzzing noise in his head. He tore the radio off and threw it against the wall. 

Someone was touching his arm. “Rodney!” a voice said. “Rodney, it’s all right. It's okay. It’s all right.”

Rodney felt his pulse fluttering in his throat; the vibrations were too fast for him to fit his breath around.

There were hands on his shoulders. “Rodney.” A voice, John’s maybe, was close to his ear. It said over and over again, “Take it easy. Rodney, it's okay. You’re in Atlantis, and you’re safe. It's okay. Take it easy. Hey, Rodney, you're safe.”

Rodney tried to focus on the voice but could not. He felt himself start to fly away.

He kicked out wildly, meeting only air. Rodney struck again, this time harder, and he felt a moment of elation as he felt his feet slam against someone's body; this time he'd get away! He would run and run and not stop. He kicked again, and jerked his body to one side to evade the hands he felt. 

Then, someone was holding him down, pressing on his legs. There was a hand on the side of his face, and Rodney twisted his head to try to bite it. As his teeth made contact, he twisted his jaw to tear the flesh between them, and heard a shout. 

He felt a roar rise up inside him. His heart scrambled like a live animal in a cage, and he had a hard time drawing in his breath. 

The voices around him were rapid and authoritative but also calm. He felt a tightening on his upper arm and struggled to get away. Something hard and plastic was put over his mouth and nose, and Rodney tried to claw it off. He could hear someone making a high, keening noise and thought it might be himself. 

“Leave it, you need it, it's helping you breathe,” a voice said. It was John's. Someone grabbed his hand and firmly held it. "Grip it tight, Rodney. Hold on. I have you. It’s okay. You’re safe.” It was John's hand. Rodney clutched it tightly and drew it towards his chest. "That's right, hold on, hold on. It's okay, hold on," John said. 

Someone else was holding his other arm down. Rodney felt something wet and very cold on the inside of his elbow. He tried to pull his hand away from John's to rub the moisture off, but John was too strong. Instead, Rodney tried to twist his arm and rub his elbow on his clothes. He tried to buck and turn but could gain no momentum. He began to sob with fear and anger and desperation and could barely catch his breath. 

"Rodney, stop. It's okay -- John, tight -- Kate, get the other one -- okay." Carson’s voice came from the other side of his head. "Okay, okay, ready now -- yes -- okay -- "

There was another swipe of wet on the inside of his elbow, and Rodney felt a sting. Then blackness.

* * *

His body was heavy, but he was warm. His sheets smelled fresh and felt tight and smooth. The desk light was on, and the room was bathed in a mellow glow. 

Rodney turned his head. Someone was sitting in the chair by his bed, their feet up on the desk, and their head back. It was John. There was a limp, blue cold pack on one of John's thighs. He was wearing an Air Force sweatshirt Rodney had never seen before. It fit loosely on him, and Rodney wondered it was someone else's. 

Rodney could see several coffee cups on the desk, as well as two laptops. 

Rodney shifted a little, and John jerked his head and sat up straighter. Rodney could see Carson's science jacket draped over the back of the chair. 

“Hey,” John said. “It’s just me.”

Rodney blinked and turned back to look at the ceiling.

John said, “How do you feel?”

Rodney had to think about the question.

“You feel okay?” John asked. "You in any discomfort?"

Rodney had to think about that, too. He could hear John shift in the chair. 

"Do you need Carson, Rodney? Or another doctor, or something else?" John asked, his voice low and careful. 

Rodney said, "No. Not that. None of those things."

"You had a bit of a moment. Carson was here.”

Rodney tensed, and John must have noticed. “He was concerned, as was.... I was, too.”

Rodney said. “Hmmm.”

“It was a stress reaction. Carson gave you something to help you relax, to make you more comfortable.”

Rodney bent his elbow and felt the pull of a piece of gauze and adhesive tape in the crook of his elbow.

"Carson gave you a basic once-over," John said carefully. "He's also been here keeping an eye on things, you know, medical protocol and all."

Rodney touched the gauze on his elbow gain, and he felt his heart speed up. 

John said, "He wanted to reassure you, though, the exam was nothing more than you'd given consent to before. Temp, blood pressure, things like that. You also need to know that it was private. No one else was there during that time, that includes me." 

Rodney felt relief wash over him. He said the next thing on his mind. “Ten months?”

John was silent. Then he said, “Can I get you anything?"

“Ten months,” Rodney turned to look at him. “I had no idea it was that long.”

“Yes.” John’s eyes glittered in the half-light. “It was definitely ten months. I’m very much aware of that. We all are.”

Rodney rolled to his side and sat up. He felt both stiff and floppy. He realized someone had put thick, warm socks on his feet, and the sheets on his bed had been changed. He was also wearing different sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

John said, "Give yourself a minute before you try to stand up." 

Rodney thought that was good advice and put his head down towards his knees. 

"Carson’s going to want to check you over again,” John said. “Will you let him?”

Rodney didn’t answer.

John said, “He’ll bring food. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” John grimaced. “Sorry. That’s a terrible word.”

Rodney had to agree. He nodded, and John tapped his radio. “Two oatmeals, two applesauces, one coffee, one water, three bananas. One doctor.” He turned to look at Rodney. “Don’t get too excited. The coffee is for me.”

Rodney scowled.

“Doctor’s orders.” John stood up and grimaced at the movement. The cold pack slid onto the floor. As John reached over and made the bedside lamp a little brighter, Rodney saw the edge of white gauze on John's wrist, the rest covered by the sleeve of his sweatshirt. 

The glare made Rodney close his eyes for a moment. Then, Rodney stood up, took a deep breath, and rolled his shoulders. He felt tired but also strangely euphoric, like he'd just come away from a battle, or had run a long distance. As he started toward the bathroom, John said, “You know, of course, there’s coffee in the mess hall. I hear it’s nice, and strong, and hot.”

Rodney ignored him and went to use the toilet.

He came back into the room just as the door chimed. It was Carson, and he had food and his med field kit. John took the tray and put it on the desk. "I'm going stretch my legs, be back in a bit." He had a bit of a limp as he made his way to the door. 

Rodney sat down on the edge of his bed and stuck his arm out. 

Carson took Rodney’s his blood pressure and then his temperature. He said, “You gave us a bit of a scare, Rodney.”

"Yeah, well." Rodney said. "Anyway. That." 

Carson asked a few more questions to which Rodney gave curt answers. 

He was packing up his med field kit just as the door chimed. Carson let back John into Rodney's quarters and said, "I'm just heading out. You need to stop by infirmary later this morning, John, so I can -- so we can touch base." 

John nodded, and the doctor left. 

John sat down, handed a banana to Rodney, and grabbed one for himself. He tapped it against Rodney’s and said, “Cheers.”

He and John ate their meal in silence. Rodney wanted to ask about how he could have been gone ten months, almost a year, how the passing of that much time could possibly be true, but he didn’t know how to say it.

As he put the dishes onto the tray, John said, “We thought you were dead on that planet. We had proof of it, or at least we thought we did.” 

Rodney said, “I understand.” And he did, really. He knew his team, he knew John. He knew if they’d thought there was any chance Rodney had been alive, they would have looked for him and found him. While they didn’t always agree absolutely everything, they did on the all important things as well as most unimportant things. 

“Well.” John stared at him. “I’m glad one of us is so understanding.” His face was tight. He picked up the tray, turned his back, and started for the door. 

Rodney wanted to say, “You don’t have to leave now. You can stay.” 

But he couldn’t get the right words out, in the right way, and in the right order, and John left.

* * *

At the afternoon check-in, Carson told him Radek Zelenka wanted to visit him.

“He probably screwed something up,” Rodney said.

“I don’t know,” Carson replied. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“Fine,” Rodney said. “Tell him to bring hot food,” and he hung up on him.

The door chimed ten minutes later.

“Doctor McKay, it is I,” Radek said, unnecessarily.

Radek had brought a meal from the mess hall, two plates of vegetable loaf and rice with a side of the chartreuse-colored stuff the cooks called “Supreme Sauce.” Rodney thought it looked delicious.

“That looks terrible,” he told Radek. “I’ll bet it’s cold.”

“If you want your food warmer, you will have to go there yourself.” When Radek sat down, picked up his fork and began to eat, Rodney joined him. The Supreme Sauce was just as salty, lumpy, and bland as he remembered it. This made Rodney happy. 

Radek had not just brought supper, but some lab reports. They were, of course, full of errors and lazy assumptions. 

Rodney snapped, “Is this what goes on when I am not there to keep an eye on you?” He tossed the papers aside.

“Of course not,” Radek sniffed. “Those are some of the experiments being done by Group Three. I simply brought them to you to give you something to read. The work done by my part of the lab is, of course, top notch, and there’s a good chance it will garner me a Nobel Prize.”

Rodney snorted, “That is unlikely.”

“Well. That is true,” Radek admitted. “But this is only because everything I do is classified, and this will likely remain that way until I am dead. And since they do not give Nobel Prizes to dead people, I am out of luck.”

“Well,” Rodney said. “That’s good, then.”

“The same applies to you.” Radek stared at him. The frame of his glasses were bent a little and askew on his nose. It caused Radek tilt his head in a way that made him appear more off-kilter than usual. 

Rodney wondered if Radek was waiting for him to say something and thought he might be looking forward to the predicted altercation. Rodney also wanted ask him more about what Radek had been working on while he’d been gone, but he didn’t know where to start.

Radek asked, “Do you want to know more about what has been going on in the labs? About how anything actually got done while you were gone? Why I look exhausted?”

“No,” Rodney said. “Actually, I don’t.”

“Do you mind, then, if I stay here awhile and do some paperwork?”

“I don’t care,” Rodney said. He lay back on his bed, put his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling. 

At first, Rodney found the scratch of Radek’s pencil over the papers relaxing, his sporadic soft hum of understanding calming, and Radek’s breathing inoffensive. Then all those things became annoying. He told Radek this, and the scientist laughed, “You have not changed a bit, Doctor McKay.” He got up and gathered his papers.

Rodney took too long to think of a retort to this ridiculous statement, and by then, Radek had left.

Since Radek hadn’t taken the supper trays, Rodney opened the door and put them on the floor in the corridor. He stood there for a moment, blinking in the bright light.

Then he went back into his room, used the toilet, and washed his hands.

He looked out his window at the moonlit water. While he couldn’t hear the wind through the locked window, he saw it was strong enough to have whipped up small whitecaps. The waves appeared muted and a little fuzzy through the glass.

Rodney looked over at his radio headpiece sitting on the nightstand. He’d already completed the invasive requirement of the twice-daily check-in which meant his communication duty was finished. 

He reached down, picked up the headpiece, and tapped it, then put it up to the side of his face.

John said, “Rodney, what do you need?”

“I don’t –- “ Rodney said, “I don’t need –- But would you -– "

His door chimed. Rodney said into the earpiece, “John.”

“I’m right on the other side of the door,” John said. “Do you want to let me in?”

Rodney thought that would be okay. If he told John to leave, John would leave. He said, “Okay.”

The first thing Rodney noticed was that John’s hair was matted and didn’t look very clean. Rodney thought John might be wearing the same clothes he had been two days ago. 

John didn’t sit down, and Rodney didn’t ask him to.

Rodney said, “I think I gave up when I was there.”

John said, “How is that?”

“I got up off the ground every morning, and I held out my bowl for soup every day,” Rodney said. He felt very tired. “I think I only did those things out of habit. Not really for anything else.”

There was a long silence. 

John said, “I thought you were dead. We had the forensic evidence -- some of the zipper from your jacket, part of your Beretta. We had a positive DNA confirmation -- one of -- of -- one of your teeth. We weren’t even looking for you.” His voice cracked. “And I hate myself for that.”

Rodney felt like things were spinning too quickly in his brain.

John said, “I was Team Leader. Teyla and Ronon, they followed my lead. I keep thinking if maybe I hadn’t been so certain, that we -- that you -- ” John swallowed hard. “They followed my lead, and I was goddamn wrong.”

Rodney thought he could say something to comfort John, but everything felt too complicated.

There was a long, long silence and John said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He started to put his hand out, maybe to touch Rodney’s shoulder, but then he pulled it back.

“Sleep well,” John said and left. 

* * *

At the next radio check-in, Rodney demanded some MREs. 

Rodney opened his door when it chimed. Ronon was standing in the hallway, and he said, “You need a haircut, McKay.”

“I suppose you want to come inside.”

“Depends.”

“On what.” Rodney scowled.

“On whether you ask me to.”

“And if I say no.”

“It means you’ll have to call someone else to bring you these.” Ronon held up three MREs.

Rodney tried to grab the packets out of his hands. As usual, Ronon was quicker and pulled them out of his reach.

Ronon asked, “Is that a yes or a no?”

“It’s a yes.”

Ronon walked inside. He put the MREs onto Rodney’s bookshelf, sat down on the chair and put his feet up on the desk. “Teyla and I were gone a week. We were in the backcountry on the mainland. We would have been out longer if we hadn’t checked in and found out you were not dead.”

Rodney didn’t know what to say to that. Ronon’s words brought to mind a completely different world, an alternate universe really, one where two people had gone on a trip, had an adventure, and then returned. All by choice! While he knew this was an obvious observation, Rodney was still having trouble wrapping his mind around it.

Ronon didn’t seem to notice. He stared out of Rodney’s window for a long time. Rodney turned and stared with him. The sun was setting over the water, and it turned the light in the room a rich shade of red and orange. When the sun dipped down over the horizon, Rodney saw the bright lights of a departing puddle jumper in the twilight sky. He wondered if it was headed to the mainland and who its pilot was.

Ronon put his feet back down on the floor, and it appeared he was getting ready to leave.

“You spent seven years alone while you were on the run,” Rodney said.

“I wasn’t always alone, but there were some very long stretches.” 

“How did you do it?”

“Sometimes I ask myself the same question,” Ronon said.

Rodney cleared his throat. “I wanted -– when I was -– " He put his hand up, felt the scar at his hairline, and rubbed the ridge of it. “I watched a man die, and I did nothing to help him. He was only a few arm's lengths away from me, as close as you are to me right now.”

Ronon said, “Sometimes there is nothing you can do.”

“I could have offered something –- water maybe -- I could have -– but I was afraid.”

“McKay.” Ronon shifted in the chair.

Rodney didn’t answer him.

“Pain and fear,” Ronon said. “They are things that can destroy a person’s soul.”

“You would not have been a coward like that. Teyla wouldn’t have been a coward. John wouldn’t have been one.”

Ronon pulled the chair nearer to the bed. It was all too close, too fast, and Rodney moved backwards. He tried to make it look like a casual move. He knew he had failed when his elbow hit the empty water pitcher on his nightstand, and the container clattered to the floor. 

Ronon slowly pushed the chair back. After a while, he said, “I understand."

“No. You don’t.” Rodney’s face felt tight, as if he was wearing a mask. “You can’t.”

Ronon studied him for a moment. “There are many ways people can hurt other people. How they choose to do it is their poison alone and has nothing to do with --.”

Rodney said, “You need to leave.”

Ronon sat still for almost a minute. When he stood up, he said, “Teyla would like to see you. You want that?”

Rodney said, “I don’t know.”

Ronon gestured to the MREs on the bookshelf. “Manicotti. Teyla said they were your favorite. Manicotti sounds like a dance, not food.”

"It's an Italian word. Means "little sleeve." It's also a pun. About hands and heat." Rodney knew he was babbling, and it was about something very stupid. 

Ronon smiled. "Satedan food has many puns. Someday, I'll tell you about a festive dish that alludes to one of our large, swimming rodents." 

"Okay," said Rodney. "Okay. Yes. I'm sure it's delicious." 

"Yes, it is but only when it's cooked correctly, otherwise --" Ronon made a face. "If you don't prepare it right, it is less a pun and more of a reality. All those bristly little hairs -- " Ronon grimaced again. 

"Well," Rodney said. "Makes manicotti seem downright boring."

When Ronon left, Rodney looked at the MREs. They were Meal #11, indeed his favorite. He added water to the heater packet and propped it up using a stack of books to keep it at the right incline. 

He didn’t open the accompanying supplementary food packets which contained the pound cake, the wet fruit pack, and peanut butter and crackers. Those he put into a little pile.

When the heater reached the boiling point, he put it back into the MRE pouch, sealed it up, and waited. 

Thirteen minutes later, the vegetable manicotti was hot, and he ate it with the provided plastic fork.

Rodney pulled out the duffle bag under the bed, put the remaining MREs in it, and pushed the bag back. He thought about this for a moment. Then he grabbed a towel from the bathroom and covered the duffle bag up, tucking the edges of the cloth around it so it was completely hidden.

* * *

Rodney’s night was a troubled one, and he spent some time in the bathroom. The MRE might have been a little too much for him. It was possibly the cheese.

Sleep was elusive. Between his cramping gut and things fluttering around in his head, Rodney felt his brain click off and stutter every time he reached a precipice he didn’t know he’d climbed.

The next day was a restless one. Rodney allowed Carson in for a moment to check his temperature, but he didn’t answer any of his questions.

After the doctor left, he pulled out some old journals of his notes. He looked at the words written by the old Rodney. He did not feel like the two of them were the same person.

That night, he dreamed about the sturdy animals that had pulled the wagons. Snorting quietly, the creatures had moved about in their pens, stomping their hooves in the dirt. They would huddle together, flank to nose, almost leaning in on each other as they chewed the dried grass they'd been fed. The guards, though rough and silent and dispassionately cruel with their human charges, never mistreated the animals. They always had a gentle hand on the harness, and sometimes Rodney would hear them speak softly to the animals, saying things that made their ears swivel and twitch.

Rodney rolled over and drew his knees up to his belly. He felt the pull of muscles between his shoulder blades and the crease of the pillow against his cheek. 

He thought about one of the last times a guard had focused his attention upon him. During the ordeal, Rodney had felt himself leave his body and float up past the tops of the trees. He had looked down at a terrible tableau. He’d seen the scratching and scrabbling of a man’s hand in the dirt, seen a man’s pathetic attempts to escape the rhythmic application of knifing pain, and heard a man’s desperate howl.

Rodney remembered thinking, “That poor bastard,” before sinking back down and realizing the clutching hand, the broken nails, and the aching howl were his own.

Now, in his quarters, Rodney felt desolation wash over him. But even alone and safe, he couldn’t weep.

* * *

It was hard to get out of bed the next morning, but Rodney felt a little better after a shower.

He thought about the MREs under his bed. He’d even gotten down on his hands and knees to look at them there. But instead of dragging them back out, he stood up, and tapped his radio headpiece. It was Kate Heightmeyer on the other end.

Heightmeyer!

Rodney had no idea how to react to that. 

“Good morning, Rodney,” she said. When he didn't answer her, she asked, “Did you sleep all right?”

“Peachy,” Rodney said. “Send over a breakfast tray.” 

“Do you want any company?”

“No.”

Rodney spent the day looking out his window, watching the water, the pier, and the birds gathered there. Sometimes the choppy water lapped up against the pier’s edge, and the spray made the birds skitter to the opposite side of the surface. They would run back, peck at the deck, and eat whatever had been dispersed there from the water. 

About every five minutes, a wave rolled in that was more powerful than the others, and it washed over the pier completely. This caused the flock of birds to rise in formation, circle as a group, and then land again when the water skated back off the edge.

It was a cycle which happened over and over again. Rodney was intrigued by the pattern. Was the larger wave a regular occurrence? One that occurred every tenth time? Fourteenth time? Did the birds begin to anticipate the rhythm and their temporary displacement?

Rodney picked up a pencil and notebook and spent the morning graphing the rise and fall of the waves and of the birds’ predictable retreat and return.

Then, after about five hours, without any warning, the flock of birds rose up and flew away, leaving the pier empty. They did not come back.

Rodney walked over to the tray on his desk and ate some peanut butter crackers and a wet fruit pack. He felt an ache in his back in the familiar way it used to in the lab after he’d spent most of a night hunched over a mysterious Ancient device, screwdriver in hand.

He looked down at the paper he’d used to take notes about the birds. Rodney thought some more about the pattern of the waves, about the math, and how this could possibly be applied to something useful regarding the desalination intake tanks.

* * *

The late afternoon check-in was aggravating. It was Dr. Heightmeyer on the radio again, and Rodney hung up without saying a word. Five minutes later, when the radio chirped, it was Elizabeth.

Rodney said, “Would someone drop some hot food by?”

Elizabeth replied, “Certainly.”

* * *

Rodney thought about his notes, about the waves and the birds. If he wanted to graph all this to see if he could discern a pattern in a usable, scientific way, he needed a computer application.

Since his return to Atlantis, Rodney had used his laptop only once, and it was to see the date on the main screen a few days before.

But to access the mainframe and use a graphing program, he needed his password. 

Rodney typed in his password. “ACCESS DENIED” appeared on the screen. 

Again, he typed it, knowing his fingers were out of practice. “ACCESS DENIED.” 

He checked the caps lock to make sure he wasn’t making a rookie mistake. “ACCESS DENIED.”

Of course, Rodney thought, his password had expired a long time ago. Passwords were only good for three months, and he'd set it weeks before they'd gone down to that planet. Rodney thought it had probably ceased working right about the same time the two captives had died from drinking dirty water. 

Rodney sat at the edge of his bed and tried to get his head around how these things could have happened in the same universe. In one reality, people had moved their food trays along the mess serving line and made a decision between the meatloaf and the spicy rice casserole. They retrieved their clean clothes from the laundry service, ran experiments through spectrometers and magnetic resonance imagers, fixed jumpers in the bay, and played cards in the rec room. 

At the very same time, in another place, people pulled bean pods off low plants, crouched over latrine pits, dropped dead in their tracks in the middle of dirt rows, kept the firewood pile stocked, looked up at the stars in the black night sky, and sometimes wished for their brains to shut down.

It had started to get dark in his room when Rodney reached over and tapped his radio. 

John said, “Yes, Rodney.”

“I want to access my laptop. I need to have someone get me a new password. Will you submit the paperwork?”

John said carefully, “There are security issues. I can’t fill out the paperwork to give you clearance without some other things that need to get done first.”

Some other things. Rodney knew what that meant. He’d have to have a full medical exam with Carson. He’d have to spend a lot of time with Dr. Heightmeyer. There would be far too much touching, explaining, and talking, and there would be too many decisions to make. He felt exhausted just thinking about it.

“You can all go to hell.” He took the headpiece off and slammed it on the desk.

“They can all go to fucking hell!” he shouted. “All of them! Goddammit it! Goddamn everything!" He kicked his wastebasket.

The radio chirped. Rodney ignored it. 

He picked up the wastebasket and slammed it against window, then picked it back up and did it again. 

He could hear the radio buzzing, so he picked that up and smashed it against the desk. 

His door chime rang. “Hey, Rodney, let me in,” John said through the closed door.

Rodney didn’t answer him and instead threw his water pitcher against the wall.

The door slid open, and John stepped in. Rodney picked up his laptop and threw it at John. He easily ducked it, and the computer hit the closed door behind him, breaking into two pieces.

“Knock it off!” John yelled.

“Get the hell out of my room!” Rodney curled his fists up. He wasn’t sure who he wanted to hit.

“You didn’t answer your radio,” John said.

“Fuck off!” 

“I'm not going to do that. What are you angry about, Rodney?” John said, lowering his voice.

“I can think of about forty things!” Rodney looked around for something else to throw. “How about if you pick one?”

“Is this about paperwork. About having to talk to Heightmeyer?”

“Bingo. You get it in one, Colonel.”

“What can I do to help, Rodney?”

“I don’t want your help,” Rodney shot back. “I think you need to run along and save your pity for someone who actually needs it!”

“Rodney -–“

“You think you’re going to hold all that over my head? That you are going to make me follow all those rules so I can gain the privilege of reading everyone’s shitty mission reports about that trip? Mission reports that talk about how you, and Ronon, and Teyla saved the day? Mission reports that make light of McKay's predictable annoying paranoia about a planet that turned out to be something more than a place to make a fabulous trade agreement. Mission reports and paperwork about a complete idiot who was captured and -- and -- assaulted? Reports that highlight the weak imbecile who was stupid enough to end up in a bean field. The loser you didn’t listen to, the one who was -- was -- forced face down on the ground. The absolute nothing who -–“ Rodney’s voice cracked on the last word and he had to stop, swallow hard, and wait a moment before he could breathe again.

John’s face was flushed. His eyes glittered in the dim light. “You think that -–“

“I do!” Rodney shouted. “You, and Ronon, and Teyla, and Elizabeth, and Carson, and probably my entire lab of brainless cretins, certainly the knuckle-dragging Marines! You’re all -- everything went on like normal here while -- why should I even do anything anymore because I have nothing left. No, I don't want to follow all the rules so that I can read all about it in your shitty, shitty paperwork.“

"You don't -- I can't --" John’s face closed down. “Suit yourself.” He strode out of Rodney’s room without looking back, and the door slid shut behind him.

Rodney stood still for a moment. He looked up at the ceiling, felt his fists clench, and his nails dig into his palms. He felt a spark rise in his own body, and it began to burn like a ferocious flame.

Rodney howled in rage. 

He shoved over his bookcase, and the contents hit the floor with a thud.

He kicked the books aside and then shoved everything off his desk with his arm. He picked up his desk chair and slammed it into the wall. The sound of it breaking was very satisfying.

Rodney stood in the middle of his ruined quarters, and his chest heaved with thick, stuttering breaths. 

Slowly, he felt tension drain out of his body.

Rodney walked backwards until his back hit the door. He slid down the hard surface until he was sitting on the floor. He pulled his knees up, and put his head in his hands.

After a few minutes, the radio headpiece chittered from an unfamiliar place. Had he not killed that thing! Rodney looked at his belongings strewn over his floor. He leaned his head against the wall as the radio chirped again and again.

The goddamn radio was relentless. 

Rodney slowly got to his feet. He saw the earpiece where it had fallen, lying near a picture frame. He picked up the frame and turned it over. It was the photo of his cat. The glass was unbroken, and he put the frame on his desk. 

He leaned over, picked up the radio, straightened out the tiny bent antenna and said into it, “This is Rodney. Yes, I am still here." He put it down before hearing an answer and crawled into bed.

* * *

Rodney made his morning radio check-in with a curt, “Fulfilling the requirements as they’ve been dictated by the establishment.” He didn't wait to hear if there was a response.

He pulled out the MREs he’d hidden under his bed. He prepared one by rote and shoved the last packet back into the duffle bag.

He tossed the empty plastic containers and the spoon onto the mess of books, journals and clothes strewn across his floor.

Rodney slept sporadically and woke up in the late afternoon with a dull headache. He ate some crackers, scooped out the peanut butter, drank a strawberry drink, and dropped the empty containers on the floor.

When tapped his radio headpiece, he said, “Checking in as required.” He put it on the nightstand, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Rodney said into the radio, “I need a scissors and a razor.”

Carson said, “What -- up to?” his voice sounded faint and faded out a bit halfway through his question. 

"What?" Rodney asked. 

" -- going to do?" Carson's voice cut out again. 

“Some beautification.” Rodney put the device back down on the desk.

Carson was at his door in five minutes. His hair was greasy and flat, his uniform jacket wrinkled, and he looked tired. He had a tray of food: pancakes, an apple, and a miracle in the form of a cup of coffee. On the tray was also a pair of dull scissors and a plastic safety razor, as well as another radio earpiece. 

"The other radio got broken somehow," Carson said. “Want some company?” 

“There’s no place for you to sit down,” Rodney said. “I destroyed my chair.”

Carson said, “I’ll work on getting you a new one.” 

Rodney nodded, took it and the tray, and shut the door in Carson’s face.

Rodney ate his breakfast and relished the taste of the coffee. Even though it was weak, each swallow felt like nirvana.

He went into the bathroom and began to chop off his long hair. He guessed at the angle in the back as he twisted the scissors behind his head and hacked at the length there. Then Rodney went after his beard with the razor. It was slow going, and his face felt a bit raw. 

He looked down at the hair in the sink. It was the hair that beans grew, and he hated it. Rodney scrapped it out of the sink bowl with his hand and flushed it down the toilet. 

Rodney took a shower and toweled himself off. He looked in the mirror, and he thought he might recognize the man standing there; it sure looked like Rodney McKay with a ridiculous haircut and a blotchy face with a yellow, fading bruise. 

Then he set to work getting his bookcase upright and putting things back on it. 

Most things had survived the crash to the floor. Rodney stacked several books with broken spines under his desk, tossed the pieces of two empty coffee cups into the trash, and smoothed out some wrinkled paper journals. 

He refolded his dirty clothes and put them on a shelf. 

He picked the empty food wrappers off the floor and put them into the dented wastebasket.

When he answered his afternoon check-in, John said, “Heard you needed a chair.”

“Oh. It’s you again,” said Rodney. “Next time someone brings me food which is not going to be today, I want more coffee. I hope you can locate some that is better than that awful swill Carson brought this morning.”

“Better swill coming up,” John said.

As Rodney ate the last MRE, he kept putting his hand up and touching his short, shaggy hair and the odd smoothness of his face. 

* * *

In the past, Rodney had found Teyla’s calm, diplomatic words to be both relaxing and exasperating.

They were both of these things today.

But as she sat in in his quarters, Rodney also felt confusion. Teyla had just apologized for her part in reading the situation on the planet wrong and seemed to be saying she had a fault in his capture because of it.

Rodney thought of the shitty decisions he’d made himself, and his face burned. The hubris of leaving his team, going to that building without anyone, not having any sort of back-up? What had he been thinking? It wasn't even close to professional, to say nothing of intelligent. 

“Shut up,” he said. 

Teyla stiffened, and she tried to hide it.

“Seriously,” Rodney said. “I know people think I am an arrogant jerk some of the time, but I’m aware I made my share of bad decisions that led to getting captured. I should have known better. You should also know that nothing about it was your fault. Or Ronon’s. Or John’s.”

“You are very kind,” she said.

“Kindness has nothing to do with it,” Rodney said sharply. “I just don’t want to have to have to figure out how to navigate the tightrope that is everyone else’s guilt, and I want to cut that stuff off at the pass.”

“I understand,” Teyla said.

Rodney thought she probably did, but it didn’t stop her from continuing with the whole guilt topic.

She said, “John has had a rough time of it.” 

There was a long silence. 

“I think maybe you don’t know what to say to that,” Teyla said. She looked down at her lap. “We were all very upset. And John, well, he was in bad shape for quite some time.”

Rodney didn’t think he couldn’t listen to the details of someone else’s pain right now. He was having a hard enough time navigating his own. He said, “If you’re going to stay here and keep talking to me, Teyla, then pick a different subject, one that doesn't have anything to do with people's feelings of remorse. Surely, things happened on Atlantis during the last year that didn't involve people wailing and gnashing their teeth about the demise of their resident genius.”

She looked startled. "Rodney," she said. "You were very missed." 

"Of course I was missed," Rodney snapped. "Every scientist putting something back together probably had two mysterious pieces left on the bench and shoved them aside, equating reconstructing an Ancient device with assembling a cheap, chain store entertainment center. My being dead probably meant it took ten times longer to get anything done around here. Doors didn't open quickly enough, water wouldn't -- " 

Teyla interrupted him and began to describe a camping trip she'd taken with Ronon, one filled with what Rodney thought sounded like grueling, pointless hiking. He took special delight in her description of Ronon running away from an immature Crested Spotted Ground Cat and having to climb a tree really fast. 

Her story also made Rodney wonder why anyone would actively choose to sleep on the ground, eat crappy food, and fend off sunburn, bug bites, and relentless rain. 

Teyla talked about observing the Atlantis scientists as they ate in the mess hall and how they divided themselves up in ways she did not fully understand. “I think it has to do with power and information hoarding,” she said, smiling. Rodney thought she was probably right, in an ethnographic, anthropological, soft science sort of way. 

Teyla told a mildly amusing story about how Elizabeth had messed up a series of requests for leave time, and because of this mistake, combined with the mess hall personnel schedules, all of Atlantis was without hot meals for almost a week. “I think the Marines,” she said, “were the biggest complainers of all.”

It made Rodney laugh, and that felt pretty good. “Yeah, what a bunch of whiners.”

When Teyla left, she touched his arm, and Rodney didn’t pull back.

* * *

That night, he opened his door to see John holding a mess hall tray with two plates on it. 

Rodney was pleased to see that the plates were both covered. “Good. Maybe the food will be hot this time.”

John looked a little more rested than he had been at his last visit, and his clothes were clean.

“McKay,” John said. “Your haircut is terrible. And your face looks really pasty.”

Rodney put his hand up to his chin. Without the beard, his face felt strange, streamlined. “Where’s Carson?”

John asked, “Do you need him? I can get him here pretty quick.”

“No. I just thought he was on Rodney-duty this time.”

“Rodney-duty,” John said, his voice calm. “What makes you say that?”

Rodney snorted. “Birds on the pier.” 

John looked puzzled. 

Rodney said, ”I’m not an idiot. It took me a while, but I’ve figured out some patterns. Humans are generally very good at noticing patterns.”

“Whatever you say,” John watched him carefully. “Carson’s sleeping. That means Dr. Franklin’s got the infirmary shift right now.” John shrugged his shoulders. “You going to let me in?”

Rodney stepped aside, and John handed him the trays.

“Chef’s Choice.”

Rodney put the trays on his desk. “Franklin’s a quack.”

John shrugged again. “Maybe. But Carson needed the sleep. He’s exhausted. There’s been some long hours lately.”

Rodney thought about that. He thought about how he and his fellow captives had held out their bowls for soup, about how they didn’t dare look at each other’s faces while they ate, and how Rodney, despite the eternity he’d spent there, had never learned their names, nor them his. It was the nature of their captivity -- silent, terrified, isolated -- even when in close personal proximity. He supposed it had been one way of holding on to their sanity. 

Rodney had been there nearly a year in these conditions, and it had been done without a safety net. He’d lived all that time with no one to help him when he stumbled.

Rodney thought, here in Atlantis, Carson could get the rest he needed and the food his body required. He had back-up in the infirmary, even if it was the idiot Franklin. 

Thinking about this concept made Rodney feel cold, and shivery, and hot. He took a deep breath. He looked at John, who he knew had been watching him. “Did people take care of you?”

John stared at Rodney. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I hope you weren’t alone,” Rodney said. “I hope you aren’t alone here now.”

There was a long silence. “I have people to help me, to fall back on, to talk to. Even when I didn't always do it,” John said. “I know it’s something you didn’t have for a long time.”

Rodney nodded.

John sat down in Rodney’s chair, and Rodney sat down on the edge of his bed.

John took a deep breath and said, “I know I can’t possibly understand everything you went through there. It would be presumptuous to assume I could, or to know how those things felt, or feel now.”

Rodney said, “It sounds like you’ve been talking to Heightmeyer.”

The side of John’s mouth twitched a little. “Yeah.”

Rodney said, “Like Franklin, she’s mostly a quack, but she sometimes her advice is less quacky than it could be.”

“I think so, too.” John watched his face, and Rodney didn’t look away. “Perhaps you might find that she -- ”

“Perhaps,” Rodney turned and took the covers off the food John had brought. “I hate stir fry.”

“Well, it’s not my favorite either,” John said. “Maybe you and I could check out the mess hall tomorrow, or another day. We can go at a quiet time so we can get that table in the corner.”

Rodney thought about this. “I don’t like the way that table rocks.”

“Maintenance repaired all those tables a few months ago. None of them tilt like that anymore.”

“Hmmm,” Rodney said. He pictured himself walking down the corridor, possibly passing some people, getting into the transporter, and arriving in the mess hall, all with John. “I think maybe that would be a good idea,” Rodney said, and as he did, thought that it felt almost entirely true. True enough for now, anyway. 

“I think so, too,” John said with a small smile, and he handed Rodney a fork. 

* * *

As he stood out on one of the larger balconies, Rodney stretched his shoulders and the long muscles in his legs. He ached a little, but in a good way. He knew Ronon had taken it easy on him in the gym earlier that morning. 

“I can’t completely beat you up during our first few weeks of our sessions,” Ronon had said. “I’d be in a lot of trouble if I had to carry you to the infirmary with some sort of broken bone.”

Rodney had given him what he hoped was a suitably withering glare.

Rodney turned his face towards the warmth of the sun and closed his eyes. Atlantis’ controlled atmosphere allowed most of its population in the city to ignore the changing seasons of the natural world. It could be hard to tell what time of the year it was if one didn’t go to the mainland or didn’t have to pay attention to equipment or instruments which depended upon fluctuations in light, temperature, and humidity. 

Rodney knew it was now late autumn. He recognized this because Teyla had recently described a complicated process on the mainland for processing some sort of seasonal grain. 

He also watched the birds on the pier and noticed their foliage had changed from a brighter to a duller color. 

During the past week, Rodney had started reading some of official documentation archived about Tarlos. It was a stipulation of his Care Plan and one of the steps towards full security clearance. He was dependent on Heightmeyer doling it out to him in pieces, and she'd already told him he'd never see all of it. Rodney was actually glad about that last part. 

He'd started with the chemistry lab reports that explained a compound called benixis-17 and its prevalence in the beans on Tarlos. Rodney now understood that this chemical had affected the mental and emotional facilities of an entire population, that they had suffered from the dulling elements of the bean soup, a constant in their diet. 

Rodney thought about how the citizens of Tarlos would now be dealing with the aftermath of terrible corruption, the reunions of strangers, the return of the intensities benixis-17 had dulled, and the realization of what had been stolen from them. 

Was it now an entire planet of confused and angry ghosts? 

While it had become less and less, the man who had died on the ground by the soup kettle still appeared to Rodney in dreams. He thought back to the time he and the other laborers had returned to the camp, and Rodney had discovered that the man’s body was finally gone. All that was left of him were the faint tracks his cold, hard heels had left in the dirt from when he was dragged away. Rodney, even with his own misery, remembered that the other abductees, in their bean fugue, hadn’t even looked down at the man’s final death place with any sort of awareness of what had happened there. They'd gathered casually over the dirt spot and held out their bowls. By the time the soup had been divvied up, the faint tracks had been eradicated by their own footprints. It was as if the man never existed, and it had filled Rodney with sorrow. 

Heightmeyer, in her calm voice, had explained that the man had become a symbol of Rodney’s helplessness and fear and of dying alone. Rodney replied that he could have figured that out without a fancy degree and years wasted in the confines of a soft science. 

Rodney heard footsteps behind him.

“It’s me,” Carson said. “Sorry. I should have gave you more advance warning.”

Rodney said, “It’s okay.” Because it really was.

Carson came over and stood with him by the railing. “I thought I’d find you out here.”

“I like it here because I can come out here to be alone,” Rodney grumbled, but he didn’t put too much bite in it.

“And here I am, ruining your solitude,” Carson said, turning his head. Rodney could feel his eyes on him.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” Rodney said, without turning to look at him. “I should have told you weeks ago.”

Carson said, “Yes?”

“I was a mess when I got back to Atlantis. I was so much of a mess I didn’t even know the extent of it, something for which I think I’m thankful for.”

Carson said, “You don’t have to -- ”

Rodney interrupted him. “I’ve never been in the habit of saying thank you, but I’m saying it now.” He kept staring straight ahead. “Thank you for helping put me back together.”

Carson didn’t reply. Rodney listened to the waves crashing over the end of the pier for a while. He turned his head and saw Carson staring out over the water as well. 

Carson said, “You went through a terrible ordeal and survived.”

Rodney said, “There were some days while I was there I wished I simply didn’t have to wake up in the morning.”

Carson turned and looked at him, his face was sad. “Like I said, no one should have to have experience those things, to feel that way.”

Rodney had to look away. “As a doctor, you’ve seen a lot of monstrous things,” he said.

“Aye. I have. The worst ones are the results of what people can do to each other. Those are the hardest to come to terms with, the utter wretched cruelties done by humans to other humans.”

Rodney said, “How do people make it from end of the day to the next when faced with those things?”

“Like you have. Like I have. Like Teyla, Ronon, like John has,” Carson said. “We do it with the help of the people around us. No one should have to be alone.”

“Yeah,” Rodney said. His earpiece chirped, and he tapped it.

“Hey, McKay,” John said. “Ronon, Teyla and I thought we’d get a movie and commandeer the third floor rec room tonight. You able to fit it in to your busy schedule?”

“I get psycho-quackenized again by Heightmeyer at 14:00, then I’m going to take a nap. I’ll decide after that,” Rodney said.

“Okay,” John said. “Let me know. Good luck with the doc.” 

“Yes.” Rodney reached up to tap the radio off. But before he did, he said, “And hey, thanks, John.”

Rodney thought he could sense John’s smile through the radio as he said, “Anytime, Rodney.”

Carson had kept his gaze on the water during the exchange. “It sounds like you're doing okay.”

Rodney didn't say anything for while. He tried out some words in his head. When he found the ones that felt right, he said, “Yes, yes, I am.”


	3. Documentation

****

### **DOCUMENTATION: REPORTS, AND TRANSCRIPTS**

  


** Security Levels:  
**

**SECLVL 1: Classified \-- see SEC RES #921-A for details  
**

**SECLVL 2: Contains Confidential Content  \-- see SEC RES #922-B for details  
**

__

__

**SECLVL 3: Basic Clearance  \-- see SEC RES #923-C for details **

**SECLVL Z: REDACTED \-- see SEC RES #921-D for details  
**

** Report Subsections:   
**

********

****1A: Documentation and Reports Related to Mission #06-869-82PL6: Filed ***PRIOR TO and IMMEDIATELY AFTER*** Dr. Rodney McKay’s Death  
  
** **1B: Excerpts from Expanded Documentation  
  
** ** **2A: Documentation and Reports Related to Mission #06-869-82PL6: Filed ***AFTER*** Dr. Rodney McKay’s Rescue  
  
** **2B: Excerpts from Expanded Documentation  
  
** **3A: Additional Reports Filed With Stargate Command  
  
** **3B: Excerpts from Expanded Documentation  
  
**

** **

** **

****

****

****

****

****

####  **1A: Documentation and Reports Related to Mission #06-869-82PL6: Filed ***PRIOR TO and IMMEDIATELY AFTER*** Dr. Rodney McKay’s Death**  


  


  1. Summary of how Planet P3X-432 (Tarlos) relates to Mission #06-869-82PL6: Long-Range Development Plan (E. Weir), see #DP-9830-9A (in six parts) -- SECLVL 3 

> a) goals and justification of exploratory team, b) its relationship to long-range planning for protein and other dietary and caloric requirements for Atlantis' population, c) to continue to maintain and expand Atlantis’ mission, d) timeframe (immediate, moderate, long-term), e) measurements of desired outcome 

  2. Mission reports: 

> a) J. Sheppard _(see expanded report below)_ , see #MIS-06-869-82PL67 -- SECLVL 3, b) T. Emmagan, see #MIS-06-869-82PL68 -- SECLVL 3, c) R. Dex, see #MIS-06-869-82PL69 -- SECLVL 3 

  3. Initial diplomatic responses (three, 3) in order of escalation (E. Weir), see #DP-9830-9B, #DP-9830-103, #DP-9830-109 -- SECLVL 3 
  4. Immediate request for increased security and military presence (E. Weir), see #SEC-192-4B2 -- SECLVL 3 
  5. Security details (E. Weir, E. Lorne), see #SEC-190-3B5 -- SECLVL 2 
  6. Rescue and recovery efforts (J. Sheppard, T. Emmagan, R. Dex, C. Beckett, A. Patel, P. Klasen-Cooper, K. Wa-Tho-Huk), see #SEC-196-9P8 -- SECLVL 3

> Refer to PreScripted Mission Assignments (PSMAs) which specifies what type of assistance is required (personnel and equipment), identifies a statement of work, and provides projected cost. 

  


> Request for personnel, all capable of working 12-hour alternating shifts: a) two Incident Commanders, b) four rescue squads, each composed of an officer and five rescue specialists, c) two task force physicians and four medical specialists, d) rapid deployment shelter and meal team, e), forensic lab and personnel, f) other support and administrative personnel 

  


> Includes material and service requests for: a) increased cargo transport, b) heavy and light evacuation equipment for removal of debris, rubble and other hazards, c) personnel transport (technical, evacuation, medical, support), d) fueling operations for equipment and transport, e) portable lighting and communication units, f) field forensic lab, g) rapid deployment shelter 

  7. Additional security reports (eight, 8) (J. Sheppard, E. Lorne), see #SEC-196-9P8, #SEC-196-9P12, #SEC-196-9Q0, #SEC-196-9U9, #SEC-196-10L, #SEC-196-Y78, #SEC-196-T98, #SEC-197-8K0 -- SECLVL 2
  8. Recovery (formally _Rescue and Recovery_ ) reports (J. Sheppard, T. Emmagan, R. Dex, C. Beckett, E. Lorne), see #SEC-198-9P8-A -- SECLVL 3 

> Includes requests for: a) additional field forensic lab and personnel, b) reduction in shelter and meal team, c) a recall of most of medical team, d) storage facilities for evidence, e) presence of Acting Marine Chaplain and personnel from counseling department 

  9. Forensic reports filed by forensic pathologist (M. Biro) and metallurgist (R. Zelenka, O. Galetti-Davies) _(see expanded report below)_ , see #FOR-YYM-9P8 -- SECLVL 3

> a) enamel and tooth pulp from human molar (upper left quadrant, #14), b) zipper fragment, c) sidearm fragment, d) other DNA evidence (identified and unidentified) 

  10. Request for detailed medical records, specifically the DNA of Dr. R. McKay (M. Biro, M. Chapman-Davies, C. Beckett), see #FOR-UP9-9P7 -- SECLVL 3
  11. Official announcements regarding the loss of Dr. R. McKay (E. Weir), see #DP-98-PK-0 -- SECLVL 3

> a) emails, b) Atlantis-wide radio communication messages 

  12. Personnel matters: outline for informing Atlantis personnel regarding Dr. R. McKay’s death (E. Weir, K. Heightmeyer, A. Chassot Agarwal), see #DP-06-869-828 -- SECLVL 3

> a) Inform Stargate Command (E. Weir), b) announcement, general (E. Weir), c) offer of personal counseling (K. Heightmeyer), d) announcement, Atlantis memorial service. (Acting Marine Chief Chaplain), e) request to have Dr. R. Zelenka become Acting Chief Science Officer (E. Weir), f) retrieval and review of Dr. R. McKay’s computer contents as it pertains to official duties, transfer of permissions to R. Zelenka (E. Weir, B. Noyce), g) archival of Dr. R. McKay's personal computer information offline (B. Noyce), h) submit request for Dr. R. McKay’s personal quarters to be inventoried and stored (E. Weir), i) notify Payroll Office, Benefits, Human Resources (E. Weir), J) cessation of any of Dr. R. McKay’s time-sensitive experiments that had been in progress (R. Zelenka, E. M. Blessing), k) inform Dr. R. McKay’s next of kin (E. Weir, J. Sheppard), l) take up collection for Dr. R. McKay’s memorial donation, recipient has yet to be determined (Acting Marine Chief Chaplain, in coordination with Dr. R. McKay's sister, J. Miller 

  13. Request that the liquidation of Dr. R. McKay’s personal quarters be denied (J. Sheppard), see #DP-06-869-898
  14. Postponed: request for the liquidation of Dr. R. McKay’s personal quarters (E. Weir), see #DP-06-869-898-a
  15. Interview reports and transcripts with civilian eyewitnesses regarding Dr. R. McKay's whereabouts at the time of explosion, planetside (submitted: E. Lorne, M. Hassan, present: K. Heightmeyer, C. Larsen), see #SEC-06-911-015-a, #SEC-06-911-015-b, #SEC-06-911-015-c -- SECLVL 3

> a) eyewitness: Lania (minor) (in presence of her mother, two representatives of Planet P3X-432 (was tending to a bucket of sirun) _(see excerpts below)_ #SEC-06-911-015-b, b) eyewitness: Nellis’el (was nursing an infant near front window, confirms she saw Tomogin’el and “the man in the blue and white jacket” pass by her house. She reports that neither person seemed agitated nor under duress.) #SEC-06-911-015-d, c) eyewitness: Bennis (was putting water out in his grackenbird pen, confirms he saw Tomogin’el and “that man who asked a lot of questions” walking towards the direction of Meeting and Storage Building #9. He reports that neither person seemed agitated nor under duress.) #SEC-06-911-015-f 

  16. Mission Debriefing (three, 3) (E. Weir), see #DP-06-911-014 -- SECLVL 2 and SECLVL 3

> a) with J. Sheppard alone, b) with J. Sheppard, T. Emmagan, R. Dex, c) as shared with larger Atlantis community, excerpted summary 

  17. Request for two-week Personal Leave of Absence (J. Sheppard), see #DP-06-870-241 -- SECLVL 3
  18. Approved: Lieutenant Colonel J. Sheppard’s request for a two-week Personal Leave of Absence (E. Weir), see #DP-06-870-246 -- SECLVL 3
  19. Documentation regarding Major Evan Lorne's temporary assignment as Atlantis' Head of Military (E. Weir), see #DP-06-872-284 -- SECLVL 3
  20. Request for one-week Personal Leave of Absence by T. Emmagan to attend the Ceremony of the Dead for a close friend, destination Athos (T. Emmagan), see #DP-06-315-776 -- SECLVL 3
  21. Approved: request for one-week Personal Leave of Absence by T. Emmagan (E. Weir), see #DP-06-315-777 -- SECLVL 3
  22. Extensive follow-up diplomatic actions regarding Planet P3X-432 (E. Weir), see #DP-10-570-9 -- SECLVL 3
  23. Expanded mandatory and voluntary personal counseling sessions for all of Dr. R. McKay’s immediate professional and personal contacts (K. Heightmeyer), see #CON-911P-MK -- SECLVL 3
  24. Request for extension of Personal Leave of Absence (indefinite) by Lieutenant Colonel J. Sheppard (J. Sheppard), see #DP-10-571-P -- SECLVL 3
  25. Approved with stipulations: Lieutenant Colonel J. Sheppard’s request for indefinite Personal Leave of Absence (E. Weir), see #DP-06-860-888 -- SECLVL 3
  26. Extension of Major Evan Lorne's temporary assignment as Atlantis' Head of Military (E. Weir), see #DP-06-854-990 -- SECLVL 3
  27. Extended staff meetings with science department heads (E. Weir, R. Zelenka), see #DP-11-911-9 -- SECLVL 3
  28. Report: Lieutenant Colonel J. Sheppard’s return to duty, debriefing, roster reviews (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, E. Lorne), see #DP-54-888 -- SECLVL 3
  29. Second request for the liquidation of Dr. R. McKay’s personal quarters (E. Weir), see #DP-06-869-898-q -- SECLVL 1
  30. Second request that the liquidation of Dr. R. McKay’s personal quarters be denied (J. Sheppard), see #DP-06-869-898-q -- SECLVL 1
  31. Postponed: second request for the liquidation of Dr. R. McKay’s personal quarters (original report: #DP-06-869-898-q). It is with some stipulations, see #MAINT-UTY-9087-a-t -- SECLVL 1 (E. Weir), 
  32. Request submitted to Planet P3X-432 's leaders regarding an Expanded Biology Exploration (first in a probable series) (L. Parrish, J. Takal), see #BIO-92-PL-98-2 -- SECLVL 1
  33. Approved: request for an Expanded Biology Exploration approved by Planet P3X-432 's leaders (L. Parrish, J. Takal), see #BIO-92-PL-98-3 -- SECLVL 1
  34. Expanded Biology Exploration (L. Parrish, J. Takal), see #BIO-92-PL-98-2 -- SECLVL 3
  35. Summary of reports on unusual planetary activities: unrest, agitation, petty crime (E. Lorne, E. Weir), see #DIP-98U-78 and #SEC-1529-PO-00 -- SECLVL 2

> a) reports of some decrease in stored food, stress upon citizens, b) reports of possible citizen unrest not previously seen before, details are very sparse at this time, further intel required, c) reports of some instances of petty crime, mostly theft, previously unheard of 

  36. Request submitted to Planet P3X-432 's leaders regarding a second Expanded Biology Exploration (L. Parrish, J. Takal), see #BIO-92-PL-98-5 -- SECLVL 1
  37. Approved: request for a second Expanded Biology Exploration approved by Planet P3X-432 's leaders (L. Parrish, J. Takal), see #BIO-92-PL-98-6 -- SECLVL 1
  38. Expanded Biology Exploration, second return trip to Planet P3X-432, includes members of the chemistry department (L. Parrish, J. Takal, V. Xia), see #BIO-92-PL-817-99, see #SEC-9087-MVR-00 -- SECLVL 3
  39. Summary of reports regarding further conflict and escalation of civil unrest among Planet P3X-432’s citizens. Reasons at this time are unknown, as is extent. Further study is planned. (E. Lorne, E. Weir), see #DIP-98U-89 and #SEC-1529-PP-33 -- SECLVL 2
  40. Joint report filed by biology and chemistry department, subject is the compound _benixis-17_ , which has been found to be an element of Planet P3X-432’s dried beans. Study complete. (A. El-Halal, N. Penda), see #BIO/CHEM-92-PL-817-15-- SECLVL 3
  41. Report filed by medical department, results of long-running, extensive study pertaining to Planet P3X-432’s population: blood samples, probable results of _benixis-17_ on its human population. NOTE: It has been determined that _benixis-17_ has not, and will, not have any effect on members of the original mission team, nor on any of members of subsequent missions. See full report for details. (C. Beckett, H. Lopez, N. Penda, A.N. Turnipseed), see #MED-83-PPL-18936 -- SECLVL 3
  42. Report filed by psychiatric department regarding psychological and behavioral effects of long-term, systemic exposure to _benixis-17_ on citizens of Planet 3PX-432. (K. Heightmeyer, K. Garcia), see #PSY-83-KL-1854 -- SECLVL 3
  43. Security Report: Responded to triggered alarm for a possible Hazmat Response situation in Bio Lab Three, 23:09. It was determined coffee had been accidentally spilled on a sensor. Dr. J. Takal was the only scientist in the area at the time. Confirmed by security cameras. An all-clear was issued at 23:15. (E. Lorne, W. Turnipseed), see #SEC-83-KL-1854 as well as Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) report #569-P-Y-p -- SECLVL 1 
  44. Proposal: a third Expanded Biology Exploration trip to Planet P3X-432: confrontation/exploration regarding role of _benixis-17_ , responsibility for its implementation, its effect on economics, and how this may be related to the escalating rumors of forced labor camps. (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, E. Lorne), see #BIO-92-PL-84-21 and #SEC-198-9P8-G -- SECLVL 2
  45. Recommendations regarding the third Expanded Biology Exploration (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, E. Lorne, J. Takal, B. Wisdom), see #BIO-92-PL-84-21 and #SEC-198-9P8-G -- SECLVL 3: 

> a) inclusion of fifteen members of Atlantis’ security team to be presented as as biologists, chemists, and lab assistants, b) enough supplies for a nine-day trip, c) increased security communications on Atlantis, include 24-hour back-up, d) as per prior discussion regarding our suspicions regarding the toxicity of _benixis-17_ and how it may be being used, the added covert elements to this third "science exploratory" trip are not to be shared with the planet's leaders for reasons of security and diplomacy 

  46. Request submitted to Planet P3X-432's leaders regarding a third Expanded Biology Exploration (L. Parrish, J. Takal), see #BIO-92-PL-98-5 -- SECLVL 3
  47. Approved: request for a third Expanded Biology Exploration approved by Planet P3X-432's leaders (L. Parrish, J. Takal), see #BIO-92-PL-98-6 -- SECLVL 3

### 

###  **1A: Excerpts from Expanded Documentation Below**

  


**Mission Report: Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard**

` Report number: #MIS-06-869-82PL67  
` `Planet designation: P3X-432  
` `Date of mission: 21.16.2917 (ACT)  
` ` Type of mission: official diplomatic initial contact, trade agreement exploration`  
` Length: total 42 pages, excerpted below`

> ` Team members R. Dex, T. Emmagan, Dr. R. McKay, and myself made a trip to P3X-432 to explore trade agreements regarding produce, notably beans.  
>    
>  The day was unremarkable and included shared meals, the usual meet and greet with government officials and various members of the population, and tours of the city which mainly focused their food storage facilities.  
>    
>  [snipped: details of tour]  
>    
>  Shortly before we were to return to Atlantis, there was an explosion in a building roughly half a kilometer away from our central meeting place. It was at that time we discovered that Dr. R. McKay was missing. We responded immediately to the scene of the explosion. This focus became much more immediately pertinent when we learned from eyewitnesses that McKay was one of two people seen entering the building just before its destruction. I initialized immediate emergency assistance from Atlantis in the form of an official Rescue and Recovery Unit. With the assistance of much of a local labor force, as well as our own personnel, an exhaustive search of the building’s ruins was completed very quickly. Human remains and other evidence were discovered in the rubble. Atlantis Forensics determined these were the remains of McKay and at least two unidentified persons. The mission, at that point, became a Recovery Unit.  
>    
>  While it is unknown why McKay had been in the building, we have speculated that he had gotten information regarding some sort of scientific breakthrough and decided to investigate on his own. This is something McKay had done in the past on a number of occasions. Given the evidence at hand, we have no reason to suspect McKay’s death was anything more than an accident involving improperly stored sirun fuel and an unattended fire. T. Emmagan has confirmed this scenario based on her current knowledge of Planet P3X-432’s reputation and presentation. Let me also add that we received the utmost in cooperation from all town leaders and citizens.  
>    
>  While it is not customary to include personal notes with mission reports, I want to add that besides being a highly valued member of my team, Rodney was a close friend. I take full responsibility for this tragedy. His death has been a great personal loss to me.  
>    
>  -- Signed, Lt. Col. John Sheppard, Military Commander of Atlantis`

  
****

**Report from Atlantis Forensics Department: Evidence Regarding Identification of Human Remains **

  
  
` Submitted by: Dr. M. Biro (Forensic Pathologist), Dr. Y. Larson, F.R. Freeman (Tech), S.P. Latton (Tech)  
` `Date: 21.19.2917 (ACT)  
` `Case file: #FOR-YYM-9P8--brief, related to #FOR-YYM-9P8-full -- SECLVL 3  
` `Purpose and subject: assessment and identification of human and material remains  
` `Additional documents: Certificate of Analysis, Chain of Custody  
` ``

> `` `` ``
> 
> `Below is the #FOR-YYM-9P8--brief report. See #FOR-YYM-9P8--full, for extensive documentation. This report is for human remains (identified below as Individual #1, Individual #2, Individual #3). For additional forensic reports as they pertain to the compromised physical structure itself, see #FOR-YYM-65-KM. ` ``
> 
> ` Positive identification is based on these forensic summaries: `  
>  `1. Identified bone fragments from Individual #1 (DNA not in Atlantis database)  
>  ` `2. Identified bone fragments from Individual #2 (DNA not in Atlantis database)  
>  ` `3. Identified bone fragments from unknown individual/s  
>  ` `4. Pathology: molar (upper left quadrant, #14) from Individual #3 (DNA in Atlantis database)  
>  ` `5. Metallurgist: fragments from a jacket zipper, one issued by Stargate Command  
>  ` `6. Metallurgist: fragments from the barrel mechanism of a Beretta 92FS  
>    
>  ` `Attached is list of accompanying images: molar (upper left quadrant, #14) (6), zipper (9), weapon (14), identified bone fragments, DNA from subject #1 (4), identified bone fragments, DNA from subject #2 (8), unidentified bone fragments, DNA, extraction impossible (42).  
>    
>  ` `**Conclusion** : DNA testing and evidence concludes that three individuals, perhaps more, were killed in the explosion and intense subsequent fire.  
>    
>  ` `**Conclusion** : DNA concludes two of these individuals were natives of Planet P3X-432, one likely being a woman named Tomogin’el. Will conduct further DNA tests of her relatives to confirm.  
>  `  
>  `**Conclusion** : There is a 99.8% likelihood that the human molar is from Dr. R. McKay.  
>  `  
>  `**Conclusion** : The zipper fragment and sidearm fragment have been determined with a 98% likelihood as being on the person of Dr. R. McKay.  
>  `  
>  `-- Cc: Dr. C. Beckett, Dr. E. Franklin, Dr. E. Weir `

**Summary and Excerpts from Planetside Eyewitness Interview Transcripts**

> Excerpts from transcript of interview with Lania (minor child, in presence of her mother). Present: K. Heightmeyer, C. Larsen #SEC-06-911-015-a -- SECLVL 3  
>    
>  ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - **Doctor C. Larsen** : Hello, Lania. Thank you for visiting with me today.  
>  - **Lania** : I like your hair. It’s a funny color.  
>  - **CL** : Thank you. My sisters and brothers all have the same red hair.  
>  - **Lania** : I wish I had some some sisters.  
>  - **CL** : They can be fun! Lania, your mother says you saw something the night the building burned down. Can you tell me what you saw?  
>  - **L** : I can. [Lania looks down, Lania’s mother touches her daughter’s arm]  
>  - **CL** : Will you?  
>  - **L** : Yes. I was changing the bucket on the sirun tree. It was half-full. You have to when it --- it’s better to change it before it gets too heavy and slops all over your legs.  
>  - **CL** : That’s a big job for a little girl.  
>  - **L** : I'm not a little girl. I'm a big girl. [frowns]  
>  - **CL** : Of course you are. I apologize, Lania. What did you see that night?  
>  - **L** : I don't know if I want to talk to you anymore.  
>  - **CL** : I don't blame you. I hurt your feelings.  
>  - [there is a 8 second silence on the recording]  
>  - **L** : I saw Tomogin’el. She’s got a secret, I think. [Lania says something undecipherable under her breath, makes a face]  
>  - **CL** : I didn't hear you, Lania. Would you say that again?  
>  - **Lania’s mother** : I don’t know why any of this is important. [appears bewildered] Lania is an on odd child. She does not sleep like her brothers do, she doesn't eat like her brothers do. She makes a fuss when we have to harvest the grackenbirds.  
>  - **L** : [leans over to CL and whispers: I hate their sad eyes. I hate the sound the birds' necks make when we break them.]  
>  - **Lania’s mother** : What did you say, child?  
>  - [there is a 10 second silence on the recording]  
>  - **L** : I told the lady that Tomogin’el and that visitor man went into Meeting and Storage Building #9. They used the front door. At first he didn’t want to go in, but Tomogin’el must have told him something interesting.  
>  - **CL** : Lania, how did you know it was “that visitor man”? Did Tomogin’el say his name?  
>  - **L** : That’s easy. He’s the one with the grumpy face. He’s the one I gave flowers to.  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --** `

**Request for Leave of Absence: Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard**

> ` Dr. Elizabeth Weir,  
>    
>  In follow-up to our meeting yesterday: as we discussed, this is my official request for a leave of absence beginning 21.25.2917 (ACT) and ending 22.10.2917 (ACT). Please let me know if I can provide further information or if you have any questions. Thank you very much for your consideration in providing me with this opportunity for personal leave. I apologize for the short notice.  
>    
>  -- Sincerely, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, submitted: 21.25.2917 (ACT) `

### 

  


**

####  2A: Documentation and Reports Related to Mission #06-869-82PL6: Filed ***AFTER*** Dr. Rodney McKay’s Rescue 

**

****
  48. Initial transcripts of radio contact between Biology/Security Team and Atlantis Head (E. Lorne, J. Takal, X. Yoon, E. Parrish, E. Weir), see #COM-YYM-9P8 -- SECLVL 3
  49. Transcript of conversation via radio between Medical Technician and Atlantis’ CMO pertaining to first contact with Dr. R. McKay. Note that this transcript has a second layer of confidentiality. (S. Schmalenberger, C. Beckett), see #COM-YYM-9U6 -- SECLVL 3
  50. Roster of Emergency Medical Team hailed to Gate Room (C. Beckett), see #MED-PL-035 -- SECLVL 3
  51. Roster of Emergency Medical Team on standby (C. Beckett), see #MED-PL-032 -- SECLVL 3
  52. Medical Report: details regarding results of Dr. R. McKay’s initial basic, and brief medical exam (C. Beckett), see #MED-PL-034 -- SECLVL 2
  53. Emergency request for an immediate meetings to discuss further action regarding Dr. R. McKay’s care (C. Beckett), see #MED-PL-037 -- SECLVL 3 

> a) initial emergency meeting via radio with K. Heightmeyer (recorded, see transcript),  
>    
>  b) additional meeting via radio with K. Heightmeyer, E. Weir, J. Sheppard (recorded, see transcript),  
>    
>  c) meeting in Medical Conference Room: block of four hours has been reserved (recorded, see transcript) In-person attendees: Dr. C. Beckett, Dr. K. Heightmeyer, Dr. E. Weir, Lt. Col. J. Sheppard,  
>    
>  Emergency patch-through via conference line: Dr. W. Holt (Stargate Command Medical Center), Dr. J. Navarro (Mayo Clinic ), Dr. C. Ahn (Walter Reed Army Medical Center) 

  54. CARE TEAM PROPOSAL written and submitted by K. Heightmeyer, C. Beckett with additional consultation by Dr. W. Holt (Stargate Command Medical Center), Dr. J. Navarro (Mayo Clinic ), Dr. C. Ahn (Walter Reed Army Medical Center).  
  
The CARE TEAM (hereafter referred to as RMCT) will consist of these on-site members: Dr. K. Heightmeyer, Dr. C. Beckett, Dr. E. Weir, Lt. Col. J. Sheppard (hereafter referred to as KM, CB, EW, JS, respectively) _(see expanded documentation below)_ , see #MED-PL-065 -- SECLVL 3 
  55. Emergency request submitted to Tech for the immediate installation of video and audio equipment in Dr. R. McKay’s quarters. This is to be combined with the set-up of a central observation post two doors down from Dr. R. McKay’s quarters. (RMCT) _(see Care Team Proposal below for details)_ , see #TECH-51-MML-9 -- SECLVL 1 
  56. Request for security: 24-hour presence at both ends of the hallway where RM’s quarters are located. No one but approved personnel will be allowed with 50 meters of RM's quarters. This security is to be covert, and is required for the privacy and safety of Dr. R. McKay. (E. Weir, E. Lorne), see #SEC-PL-10P -- SECLVL 1 
  57. Requisition for services: substitute laptop, access to be set for "No Clearance: General Visitor/Civilian Courtesy" (E. Weir, E. Takabagua), see #TECH-54-LLP-5 -- SECLVL 3
  58. Joint Report filed by Security, Anthropology, Forensics regarding the labor camp _(post-dated designation: Camp Three -- see #FOR-UP9-9P7)_ (M. Biro, Y. Huang, O. Galetti-Davies, E. Jabes, E. Lorne, ) -- date filed: 21.17.2917 (ACT) -- SECLVL 1 -- date filed: 21.18.2917 (ACT) -- SECLVL 1 

> a) established the scene dimensions, b) identified potential safety and health hazards, c) d) documented known camp activity, e) documented human remains, f) documented other biological evidence, g) tool and tool mark evidence, h) documented trace evidence (fibers, soil, vegetation), i) mapping, j) photography: digital and video cameras, a 3-D scanner, aerial photography, k) evidence collection and storage procedures, l) witness reports, m) distance from city, study of route, n) water quality tests, o) chain of custody documentation, p) conclusions 

  59. Mission Reports: 

> a) Biology: J. Takal _(see expanded report below)_ , see #MIS-09-879-90AT8Y), b) Security: E. Lorne, see #MIS-09-875-90AT8U, c) Medical: S. Schmalenberger, see #MIS-09-877-90AT22

  60. Relayed: initial request for assistance: filed by representatives of P3X-432 (Kurlen, Franz-el, others), subject: emergency food rations for citizens of Planet P3X-432 (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, N. B. Tyson), see #DIP-9184-WW-Y-21 -- SECLVL 2 
  61. Relayed: filed by representatives of Planet P3X-432 (Kurlen, others), subject: motion to burn the remains of the bean fields after their vandalism, low-level rioting in city. (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, E. Lorne), see #DIP-9184-WW-Y-21 -- SECLVL 2 
  62. Approved: initial request for assistance: emergency food rations for citizens of Planet P3X-432 (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, N. B. Tyson), see #DIP-9184-WW-Y-21 -- SECLVL 2 
  63. Joint Report filed by Security, Anthropology, Geography, Forensics excavation report regarding discovery of two additional labor camps, long abandoned, each located to the south of the city (M. Biro, Y. Huang, O. Galetti-Davies, E. Jabes, E. Lorne, ) -- date filed: 22.27.2917 (ACT) -- SECLVL 1 -- date filed: 21.27.2917 (ACT) -- SECLVL 1 

> a) established the scene dimensions, b) identified potential safety and health hazards, c) documented human remains, d) documented other biological evidence, e) tool and tool mark evidence, f) documented trace evidence (fibers, soil, vegetation), g) mapping, h) photography: digital and video cameras, a 3-D scanner, aerial photography, i) evidence collection and storage procedures, j) witness reports, k) chain of custody documentation, l) conclusions 

  64. Report Filed by Atlantis’ Head of Operations (Dr. E. Weir): "Regarding the Properties of _Benixis-17_ and its Effect on the Local Population" -- date filed: 21.27.2917 (ACT) -- SECLVL 1 
  65. Relayed: second request for assistance: filed by representatives of P3X-432 (Kurlen, Franz-el, others), subject: emergency food rations (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, N. B. Tyson), see #DIP-9184-WW-Y-21 -- SECLVL 2 
  66. Approved: second request for assistance: emergency food rations for citizens of Planet P3X-432 (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, N. B. Tyson), see #DIP-9184-WW-Y-21 -- SECLVL 2 
  67. Civilian interview reports and transcripts, all planetside: camp guards (E. Lorne, M. Hassan, Y. Blackdeer, B. Sibley-Xu), town leaders (E. Lorne, M. Hassan, E. Weir), former captives (E. Weir, K. Heightmeyer, C. Larsen), various citizens (E. Lorne, M. Hassan, E. Weir), R. McKay (postponed), see #SEC-06-911-015-d, #SEC-06-911-015-e, #SEC-06-911-015-f, #SEC-06-911-015-g, #SEC-06-911-015-h, #SEC-06-911-015-i, #SEC-06-911-015-j, #SEC-06-911-015-k, #SEC-06-911-015-l, #SEC-06-911-015-m, #SEC-06-911-015-n, #SEC-06-911-015-o, #SEC-06-911-015-p, #SEC-06-911-015-q, #SEC-06-911-015-r, #SEC-06-911-015-s, #SEC-06-911-015-t #SEC-06-911-015-u, #SEC-06-911-015-v, #SEC-06-911-015-w, #SEC-06-911-015-x, #SEC-06-911-015-y, #SEC-06-911-015-z, #SEC-06-911-015-aa, #SEC-06-911-015-bb, #SEC-06-911-015-cc, #SEC-06-911-015-dd, #SEC-06-911-015-ee -- SECLVL 1

> a) Kestted (camp guard) _(see excerpts below),_ b) Gedett (camp guard) _(see excerpts below),_ c) An-Verlis (camp guard) _(see excerpts below),_ d) Yenny (camp guard) _(see excerpts below),_ e) Sebra-ed (camp guard) _(see excerpts below),_ f) other camp guards, (3) g) Kurlen (town leader) _(see excerpts below),_ h) Franz-el (town leader) _(see excerpts below),_ i) other town leaders, (2) j) Berk (former captive) _(see excerpts below),_ k) Belarria (former captive) _(see excerpts below),_ l) Dar (former captive) _(see excerpts below),_ m) Tarrian (former captive) _(see excerpts below),_ n) other former captives, (19 of known 41) o) Nellis’el (citizen) _(see excerpts below),_ p) Rand (citizen) _(see excerpts below),_ q) other citizens (27) r) R. McKay (postponed) 

  68. Detailed Daily Logs: Filed by the Care Team. Each log is accompanied by daily meeting minutes, also filed by the Care Team. (RMCT), see #RMCT-Log-1, #RMCT-Log-2, #RMCT-Log-3, #RMCT-Log-4, #RMCT-Log-5, #RMCT-Log-6, #RMCT-Log-7, #RMCT-Log-8, #RMCT-Log-9, #RMCT-Log-10, #RMCT-Log-11 -- SECLVL 1 

> a) Day One, _(see detailed summary below)_ b) Day Two c) Day Three, _(see detailed summary below)_ d) Day Four, e) Day Five, f) Day Six, g) Day Seven, h) Day Eight, i) Day Nine, j) Day Ten, k) Day Eleven -- SECLVL 1 

  69. Excerpts from two sample RMCT (Rodney McKay Care Team) Daily Summaries: Day One and Day Three, see #RMCT-Log-SUM-1, #RMCT-Log-SUM-4 -- SECLVL 1 
  70. Minutes from the debriefing of T. Emmagan and R. Dex upon their return to Atlantis (RMCT), see #DP-98-912-O -- SECLVL 3
  71. Relayed: third request for assistance: filed by representatives of P3X-432 (Kurlen, Franz-el, others), subject: emergency food rations (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, N. B. Tyson), see #DIP-9184-WW-Y-21 -- SECLVL 2 
  72. Approved: third request for assistance: emergency food rations for citizens of Planet P3X-432 (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, N. B. Tyson), see #DIP-9184-WW-Y-21 -- SECLVL 2 
  73. Request to interview Doctor R. McKay (E. Lorne, R. Bridgewater), see #MED-9184-LL-Z-18 -- SECLVL 1 
  74. Denied: request to interview Doctor R. McKay (K. Heightmeyer, C. Beckett), see #MED-9184-LL-Z-22 -- SECLVL 1 
  75. Requisition for services: replacement desk chair for RM’s quarters. (J. Sheppard), see #REQ-02-91-198-KJM-986 -- SECLVL 3
  76. Requisition for services: replacement laptop for RM, access status: "No Clearance: General Visitor/Civilian Courtesy" (J. Sheppard), see #TECH-54-TUY-5 -- SECLVL 3
  77. Follow-up medical consultation for J. Sheppard in regards to human bite injury on lower right arm (C. Beckett), see #MED-PL-042 -- SECLVL 1 
  78. Request to meet with Doctor Weir regarding grievous concerns regarding faulty intel about P3X-432 (T. Emmagan) -- SECLVL 2
  79. Consultation with Dietary Specialist addressing Dr. R. McKay's caloric intake, mineral and vitamin deficiencies, and best course of action. (C. Beckett, S. J. Patel), see #CON-D90-92-A -- SECLVL 3
  80. Report filed regarding results of a second, more detailed medical exam performed on Dr. R. McKay: blood test, temperature, blood pressure, a basic assessment of heart, lung, and bowel sounds, and an abdominal exam that includes palpation. Awaiting RM's consent, a more intensive exam is planned for a later date. (C. Beckett), see #MED-9187-LP-H-7 -- SECLVL 2
  81. Reports: concerns regarding Dr. R. McKay's possible physical, emotional, and psychological challenges -- SECLVL 1 

> 1\. Report filed outlining concerns regarding the details of Dr. R. McKay’s possible physical challenges (C. Beckett, E. Franklin, Z. Huang), see #MED-9184-WW-E-7 -- SECLVL 1 a) overall health b) additional scans of skull, neck, brain, c) attention to missing molar and other dental problems this injury may present, d) plastic surgery recommendations regarding scar on forehead, upper left quadrant, e) plastic surgery recommendations regarding scars on back, f) general: nutrition, gastric health, dietary needs, bone density, muscle tone  
>    
>  2\. Report filed outlining concerns regarding the details of Dr. R. McKay’s possible emotional and psychological challenges and how they may manifest themselves (K. Heightmeyer, J. Felton, W. Kohler), see #MED-9184-WW-T9 -- SECLVL 1 a) difficulties in sleeping, b) Posttraumatic stress disorder, depression, anxiety, c) issues related to physiological and physical torture, d) trauma issues related to psychological effects of sexual assault 

  82. Medical Report: emergency treatment for Dr. R. McKay following anxiety attack, severe stress reaction. Follow-up required, including debriefing and review of best practices. (C. Beckett, K. Heightmeyer), see #MED-9184-WW-Y-21 -- SECLVL 1 
  83. Second request to interview Doctor R. McKay (E. Lorne, R. Bridgewater), see #MED-9184-LL-Z-56 -- SECLVL 1 
  84. Denied: second request to interview Doctor R. McKay (K. Heightmeyer, C. Beckett), see #MED-9184-LL-Z-58 -- SECLVL 1 
  85. Relayed initial request for assistance: filed by representatives of Planet P3X-432, subject: weapons and other armaments (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, E. Lorne, N. B. Tyson), see #DIP-9184-WW-Y-21 -- SECLVL 2 
  86. Denied: request for assistance: weapons and other armaments (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, N. B. Tyson), see #DIP-9184-WW-Y-21 -- SECLVL 2 
  87. Required meeting for all planetside personnel: an overview and reminder of Atlantis' jurisdiction and mission, specifically in regards to the _Posse Comitatus Act_ and the _Insurrection Act_. (E. Weir, J. Sheppard, E. Lorne) -- SECLVL 1
  88. Report: details of the collection of sixteen samples of beans containing _benixis-17_ filed in Biology Lab Two. Biosafety Level 3 (BSL-3), biosafety cabinets (BSC) #4-#9. This report has a supplementary security contingent. (E. Weir, E. Lorne, J. Patel), see #BIO-9999-IP-Z-24, #SEC-9808-R-32 -- SECLVL 3
  89. List of camp survivors: (C. Beckett, M. Biro), see #MED-9184-WW-Y-21 -- SECLVL 1 

> > An-ed, Bellaria, Berk, Carstom, Creet, Dar, Dessa, Forna-ed, Hester, Hubon-el, Isled, Idoni, Jay, Jikor Bael, Julen, Jy, Gazard, Grayla Morna, Gust-el, Kesterr, Kurlen-ed, Layn, Leevest, Lister, Madora, R. McKay, Naylay-el, Neel, Nolen, Pael, Per-ed, Petrin, Riss, Shanbandara, Stollun, Tarrian, Waller, Wulke, Zarna, one unidentified male 

  90. Proposals sent to each member of the RMCT proposing daily check-in personal counseling with each member. Follow up as needed. (K. Heightmeyer), see #MED-9184-LL-Z-9 -- SECLVL 1 
  91. Report: issues of consent have been raised about our initial interviews with citizens, town leaders, and former captives. Their agreement to be interviewed, recorded, and studied before getting the full effects of _benixis-17_ flushed from their system is problematic. In addition, initial permission to have initially pursued our explorations (and as a result, discovery of the labor camps) has been called into question, not because of the results per se, but because of the method and timing of their agreement regarding issues of consent in light of their altered and compromised brain chemistry. (E. Weir), see #DIP-911P-MK -- SECLVL 1
  92. Order filed for mandatory one-on-one personal counseling sessions for with members of the RMCT and Dr. K. Heightmeyer. (E. Weir, K. Heightmeyer), see #MED-9184-LL-Z-10 -- SECLVL 3
  93. IMMEDIATE HALT OF PROCEDURE filed: Planet P3X-432, RE: Mission #06-869-82PL6 (E. Weir) -- SECLVL 1 
  94. Forensic reports regarding Camp One, Camp Two, Camp Three (M. Biro, M. Chapman-Davies, C. Beckett), see #FOR-UP9-9P7 -- SECLVL 3 

> While some progress has been made identifying the human remains in Camp Three, it is unlikely that any further results will be known regarding the two older camps (Camp One and Camp Two). This is due to, a) the citizen's distrust of our presence on their planet, Tarlos, b) degradation of forensic evidence, c) lack of eyewitnesses.  
>    
>  In any case, this is a moot point now that all work has been ceased due to Dr. E. Weir's "Halt of Procedure."  
>    
>  1\. Camp One: partial remains of twenty-nine to thirty-six persons (unidentified)  
>  2\. Camp Two: partial remains of twenty-four to twenty-nine persons (unidentified)  
>  3\. Camp Three: Kai-Bastur, Soren, Bran-el (identified), partial remains of six persons (unidentified)  
> 

  95. Entire mission summary report series (E. Weir), see #DP-91-PL-44, #DP-91-PL-45, #DP-91-PL-46, #DP-91-PL-47, #DP-91-PL-48, #DP-91-PL-49, #DP-91-PL-50, #DP-91-PL-51 -- SECLVL 3
  96. Report Filed by Atlantis’ Head of Operations Regarding Complete Diplomatic Breakdown on Planet P3X-432, RE: Mission #06-869-82PL6 (E. Weir) -- SECLVL 1 
  97. Four (4) supplementary reports regarding Dr. R. McKay's clearance for duty (C. Beckett, K. Heightmeyer), see #MED-98-125-PK -- SECLVL 1
  98. Mission Report, postdated (R. McKay), see #MIS-07-911-82PL67 

****

### 

###  **2B: Excerpts from Expanded Documentation Below**

  
**Mission Report: Doctor Janelle Takal, Biology**

  
  
` Mission Report: Dr. Janelle Takal, Biology, Lab Two  
` `Report number: #MIS-09-879-90AT8Y  
` `Planet designation: P3X-432  
` `Date of mission: 13.26.2917 (ACT)  
` `Type of mission: explore lead regarding field conditions (exploration, security)  
` `Follows: #08-890-90AT8Y and #09-633-90AT8Y (both exploration) `  
` Length: total 180 pages, excerpted below`

> `This mission to the planet called P3X-432 (the people that live there call it Tarlos was the third in a series.`
> 
> ` The two previous missions’ goals had been to determine the kind of crops grown and if these crops could be duplicated with as much success on Atlantis’ mainland or similar agricultural spaces. This third mission had a very different goal. It included fifteen members of Atlantis’ security team disguised as biologists, chemists, and lab assistants. I was included in this third mission simply as a decoy as I was the face residents of P3X-432 were most familiar. The security was required because we expected trouble due to the fact that we had finally been provided information which suggested that the success of these crops had more to do with the results of labor of imprisoned people who had no personal agency, and who were likely mistreated, as it did with best farming practices and genetics.  
>    
>  ` `[...]  
>  `  
>  `Our source had finally agreed to take us to one site where slave labor was being utilized. This was a three-day trip by wagon through forests, rocky terrain, and finally an area of wide, open spaces of what appeared to be a very fertile flood plain. This locale was heavily cultivated in what appeared to be _Phaseolus,_ a genus in the family _Fabaceae_ , and the same species of bean that populates the storehouses, and soup pots, of P3X-432.  
>  `
> 
> [...] 
> 
> ` When we arrived, we were first shown fields empty of human workers. After some forceful negotiation, we were led to a different site that included about twenty workers. These workers, we were told, toiled happily and were well compensated. This was immediately suspect, as the workers appeared to be malnourished, barely clothed, and unwilling to interact with us in any way. After a brief skirmish, the security team took control of the situation. Shortly thereafter, I recognized Dr. Rodney McKay, our former Chief Science Officer who’d been killed in an accident in the city almost a year ago. Dr. McKay did not appear to recognize me and was quite bewildered. I stayed with him until a medic arrived, and he was transported.  
>  `  
>  `The other labor slaves, I am told, are in the care of the local government so I'm sure they will be fine.`
> 
> `-- Submitted by Dr. Janelle Takal, see additional notes by Dr. David Parrish`

********

**Transcript of Initial Radio Conversation Between Doctor C. Beckett and Medical Technician S. Schmalenberger, #COM-YYM-9U6 -- SECLVL 2**

> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [general static, intermittent unclear words]  
>  - [unidentified voice]: Patch him through -- try the other channel -- wait, this one is lighting up -- okay, go ahead, it's clear.  
>  - **Doctor C. Beckett** : Beckett here. What do you have?  
>  - **Med Tech S. Schmalenberger** : This is Medical Technician Samuel Schmalenberger, and I am off-world on P3X-432. I have a patient here in my care who needs medical care. [Doctor, it's -- I don't know how -- hold on a minute -- [crosstalk] -- just let me -- no one is going to hurt you -- ouch! -- no -- wait, it's --]  
>  - **CB** : Loop me in! What's going on?  
>  - **SS** : Hold on. -- [hey, hey, it's okay. I'm a Medical Technician from Atlantis. My name is Sam. You're safe. Hey, it's okay. You're safe. Hey, Doctor McKay, don't -- okay. Take it easy. -- [crosstalk with two other voices] -- here, it'll make you warmer.]  
>  - **CB** : Good Lord! What are you -- am I hearing you right, lad? It's Rodney McKay? He's there with you now? Alive?  
>  - **SS** : It is him, Doctor Beckett. He, and about twenty other people appear to have been prisoners in what looks like some sort of agricultural labor camp. Doctor McKay is in quite a bit of distress. I've convinced him to sit down, and accept a blanket, but he's not allowing me to touch him. -- [hey, leave it there -- just -- see, my hands are right here, you can see them, right?]  
>  - **CB** : He's conscious, then. How aware? Do you have any immediate concerns for his well-being?  
>  - **SS** : He's pretty aware. Hold on a minute. -- [Chaberek, will you sit here with Doctor McKay for a quick moment? I need to have a consult.] -- Okay, Doctor Beckett, I've moved a bit away now, and can talk more freely. I don't want to agitate him even more than I have. I've tried to take his blood pressure, to do a pupil examination to check for reflexes, but he's resisting all attempts at evaluation. He even tried to bite me.  
>  - [static, momentary signal break]  
>  - **CB** : You back, Schmalenberger? You can hear me?  
>  - **SS** : Yes, got your signal back. Did you catch that last part?  
>  - **CB** : Yes, I heard that. It sounds like he's fairly combative.  
>  - **SS** : He's calm enough if you're not trying to touch him or do something to him. Do you recommend I sedate him? I doubt he's going to cooperate for IV administration, so I'd have to go with intramuscular injection. I'd continue a field examination here and have the portable cardiac monitor at the ready. Or do you want to come down to the planet and oversee all this yourself?  
>  - **CB** : No sedation, not without more information. And it will just take additional time for me to make the trip there. If you can keep him calm, and you have no immediate concerns regarding obvious wounds, then transport immediately. -- [5 second silence] -- I'm checking the jumper ETA right now. -- [7 second silence] -- it's a pretty short trip -- one Stargate and two hops. We'll sort it out when he gets here. Do you have concerns about the transport process?  
>  - **SS** : No, sir. I think that as long as he's protected but left alone, he'll be manageable. I'll stay with him the entire time.  
>  - **CB** : Are the other survivors in similar mental and physical states? Do we need to be ready for an influx of patients, or send more medical personnel down?  
>  - **SS** : They are in about the same physical condition as Doctor McKay, but they are quite accepting, docile even, of their care. The local contingent we traveled here with is insisting on taking them back to their families and treating them there. Doctor Weir was confirming this plan of action when we discovered Doctor McKay. I think Communications is having some difficulties regarding the relay with the portable unit here. You'll have to consult with her regarding additional personnel on the planet.  
>  - **CB** : I'll do that in a moment. Right now, my primary concern is Doctor McKay.  
>  - **SS** : Yes, of course. Doc, I think that you should also be aware that some of security's very preliminary questioning is that the people here have been subject to a variety of mistreatment, including sexual assault. Doctor McKay included. -- [yes, I'll be over there in a moment. Offer him some water, see if he'll take it.] -- Ah, Doctor Beckett, sorry but Doctor McKay is getting a bit more agitated. We need to get moving.  
>  - [background crosstalk, the static of an additional radio]  
>  - **CB** : Understood. I will be cognizant of that last bit of information, Schmalenberger.  
>  - **SS** : Looks like we are ready to transport. I'll keep this channel open.  
>  - **CB** : Affirmative.  
>  - [background crosstalk]  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --  
>    
>  ** `

` ********`****

#### 

**CARE TEAM PROPOSAL**

****

*********CLASSIFIED/CONFIDENTIAL: additional security clearances required*********  


` Dr. Rodney McKay’s Care Plan  
` `Submitted by Drs. C. Beckett, Dr. K. Heightmeyer  
` `CC: Dr. E. Weir, Lt. Col. J. Sheppard  
` `Date: 13.26.2917 (ACT)  
` `Security Clearance: -- SECLVL 1  
`

####  ****

`**Initial Summary** `

> ` Dr. Rodney McKay (hereafter RM) was retrieved from a ten-month imprisonment on planet P3X-432 and is associated with Mission: #06-869-82PL67.  
>    
>  ` ` In-field preliminary medical appraisal concluded that RM appeared to be disoriented and moderately malnourished, but he had no obvious major injuries that required immediate care. This was initially determined by Med. Tech. Samuel Schmalenberger (at the scene) and Dr. C. Beckett (consultation via radio contact). The decision was made to transfer RM to Atlantis for further care after RM’s combative actions, coupled with his extreme distress, became a further concern.  
>    
>  ` ` Once on Atlantis, C. Beckett informed RM of his right to have someone present during the exam, but RM declined. C. Beckett attempted to perform an exam on RM. He was able to draw blood, take RM's pulse, but not much else due to RM's agitation and refusal to give consent to further examination and his increasing insistence upon leaving the infirmary.  
>    
>  ` `RM’s intense and consistant insistence on no physical contact, his repeated refusal to engage in conversation, and his months of experiencing mistreatment and lack of agency coupled with RM’s sometimes past very critical opinions of medicine, both physical and psychiatric, was the subject of several emergency ad-hoc meetings: _On Atlantis_ : Dr. C. Beckett (Atlantis Chief Medical Officer), Dr. K. Heightmeyer (Atlantis Head of Psychiatry), Lt. Col. J. Sheppard (Atlantis Head of Military, McKay's Team Leader), Dr. E. Weir (Atlantis Civilian Commander). _Emergency patch-through via conference line_ : Dr. W. Holt (Stargate Command Medical Center), Dr. J. Navarro (Mayo Clinic ), Dr. C. Ahn (Walter Reed Army Medical Center)  
>    
>  ` `Due to his psychological and physical trauma, the RMCT decided that RM be given personal space and time he was demanding. While this is somewhat unorthodox, Dr. Heightmeyer stressed the importance of RM’s feeling of agency in the wake of his imprisonment, trauma, and other harsh treatments, which included physical, mental, and probable sexual assault.  
>    
>  Dr. Heightmeyer used the analogy of RM needing to use his quarters as a hyperbaric, or decompression, chamber.  
>    
>  ` `C. Beckett was able to detain RM in the infirmary for nearly four hours. During this time, RMCT installed cameras and audio equipment in RM’s quarters, including the bathroom. The personnel involved in this work are under strict orders for this information to remain confidential. Documentation will be provided upon request.  
>    
>  ` `All recordings are confidential and part of RM's medical file. This is for reference of the RMCT, future use of supplementary consultants, as well as for both the legal protection of the RMCT and RM. Access to them is highly restricted: Security Level One.  
>    
>  `
> 
> ####  `****
> 
> **Implementation Details**
> 
> `
> 
> `  
>  ` ` 1. RM’s quarters are to be under constant and complete visual and audio surveillance twenty-four hours a day. The RMCT set up a central observation post in a room two doors down from RM’s personal quarters.  
>    
>  ` ` 2. Each person on the RMCT will take a twelve-hour shift. These shifts will likely have some fluidity, depending on the situation at hand.  
>    
>  ` ` Shift members will include Dr. K. Heightmeyer, Lt. Col. J. Sheppard, Dr. C. Beckett and Dr. E. Weir, hereafter referred to as KH, JS, CB, and EW.  
>    
>  ` `JS and CB will probably end up heavy in earlier shift rotation both due to their personal relationships with RM, as well as to keep RM from being overwhelmed with multiple contacts.  
>    
>  ` `R. Dex, T. Emmagan (upon their return from the mainland), Dr. R. Zelenka will be consulted and utilized but will not be a members of the RMCT. They will not have access to any of RM’s medical and psychological records due to mandatory rules regarding confidentiality and privacy. See Statute 88-PL8-90 for details.  
>    
>  ` `If deemed necessary, additional people from the Medical and/or Psychiatric Departments may need to be added to this roster, and this will be discussed at the daily meeting.  
>    
>  ` `3. Each shift duty includes: filling out an hourly log summarizing RM's movements, notes on RM's self-care, opinions about RM's overall demeanor, observations regarding his daily habits, and any areas of concern. Each shift will have an offsite backup person on duty as well. The backup duty person will provide miscellaneous services such as, but not limited to, ad hoc emotional support, brainstorming, and other support that cannot be provided by in-house. All requests for meals and other items needed by RM are to be physically funneled through security, who as per noted in this report, will be stationed on both ends of the corridor that encompasses RM's quarters.  
>    
>  ` `4. RM is required to check in with by radio twice a day. This is to insure his safety. It will be beneficial to the team as these audio check-ins will provide additional information about his state of mind. The content and tone of these interactions will be, of course, at the discretion of the person on duty, but it is hoped that they provide RM with increasing human contact and intervention, as well as some agency and direction regarding self-care, and an ability to communicate his needs.  
>    
>  ` `Things to note: changes in grooming habits, toileting, eating, sleeping, general demeanor, ability to track time, responsiveness regarding the radio check-ins, any interest in the increase of in-person contact, demonstrated interest in outside topics, other personal habits. Some basic self-care hygiene habits will likely need to be reinforced -- one example may be a reminder to RM to wash hands after toileting.  
>    
>  ` `5. RM needs to consent to a very basic initial physical examination, preferably within twelve hours. These initial tests required but are not limited to: blood test, temperature, blood pressure, a basic assessment of heart, lung, and bowel sounds, and an abdominal exam that includes palpation. RM must also consent to taking any medications required to treat any diseases or serious afflictions revealed by these basic physical examinations.  
>    
>  ` `RM will need to consent to a more extensive medical exam in the very near future, and while this is to be offered, it is not, at this time, to be forced.  
>    
>  ` `6. The window in RM’s quarters has been secured, effectively cutting off access to the water below, as well as reducing exterior paths of exit. This was done for RM’s safety.  
>    
>  ` `7. RM’s personal laptop has been disabled and will remain secured in Lockup. It will be returned to him if/when he passes all physical and mental health, as well as security clearances. A replacement laptop has been placed in his quarters. It has a few simple applications on the desktop, including a notepad application for personal use, a calculator, several standard games, and similar diversions. This laptop does not have any online access or access to the mainframe.  
>    
>  ` `8. The care team will convene each day for a meeting in which members will discuss their observations and concerns.  
>    
>  `
> 
> ####  ****
> 
> **Outcome**
> 
>   
>  ` 1. RM’s immediate safety and health are paramount. If RM takes what is determined to be a dangerous turn for the worse, either physically or mentally, clearance is given for medical personal to immediately intervene, over-riding RM’s previous requests.  
>    
>  ` `2. While there is no timetable attached to RM’s recovery, if measurable progress, as determined by the mental and physical health professionals on the RMCT and consultants, is not in achieved in two weeks, further plans will need to be discussed. These plans may include further medications, forced personal contact, more invasive medical treatment and/or the removal of RM to a location in which he can be more closely supervised and counseled.  
>    
>  ` `3. The end goal is for RM to make a physical, mental, and emotional recovery. If it is deemed necessary for RM's well-being, this could include a transfer back to Earth.  
>    
>  ` `The desired supplementary goal is for RM to be eased back into life at Atlantis, hopefully in the same role he had before his captivity, that of Chief Science Officer.  
>    
>  ` `4. Additional statement: It is understood that this plan of action will be a grueling schedule for members of the RMCT and will be at time of heightened emotions for all. The physical and mental well-being of this team is also to be monitored.  
>    
>  ` ` -- Signed, Dr. K. Heightmeyer, Dr. C. Beckett`

**Excerpts from a Report Filed by Atlantis’ Head of Operations (Dr. E. Weir) Regarding the Properties of _Benixis-17_ and its Effect on the Local Population **

****

__

` RE: Mission #06-869-82PL6  
` `Date filed: 22.27.2917 (ACT)  
` `Security Level: SECLVL 2  
` `Filed by: E. Weir  
`

> `[...] `
> 
> `Further study samples has determined that the beans grown on Planet P3X-432 contain a previously unknown substance which we have called _benixis-17_. This compound, when consumed regularly, has the end result of an almost constantly slightly sedated population. This substance, while not seriously and immediately harmful, dulls areas in the brain and makes people docile, complacent, and unable to experience a normal range of assertiveness or curiosity.`
> 
> ` The effects of _benixis-17_ depends upon two things: a) initial early exposure, namely in-utero and via lactation, b) later constant, consistent, and long-term daily exposure `
> 
> ` When exposure to _benixis-17_ is eliminated, the physical, mental, and emotional effects are eliminated as well. `
> 
> ` `` `
> 
> ` Because off-worlders do not experience the in-utero or lactation component, _benixis-17_ does not effect them, even when consumed regularly. It should be emphasized that members of Atlantis, including all of Lt. Col. J. Sheppard’s team, members of subsequent missions, are completely unaffected by this compound.`
> 
> ` [...] `
> 
> ` The instigators for the system on Planet P3X-432 of forced labor (guards, other duties) were an extremely small number of members of the population who had, in some way, discovered the bean’s effect and had chosen to avoid it in their diet. While the perpetrators had been able to keep this complex system hidden, components of it were beginning to fail, possibly due to a fungus. One example of this breakdown was the apparent closure of two other labor camps due to unknown reasons, perhaps rebel pressure. The resulting food shortages were putting additional stresses on the population. This unrest coupled with perhaps shifting loyalties allowed us some gradual in-roads to understanding and unraveling what has been a complex and intricate cultural and anthropological case study.`
> 
> `[...] `
> 
> `It is unknown what the perpetrators of of these abuses were hoping to gain. The goals may have been economic, religious, geo-political, sexual access as per human genetics, and/or other outcomes. The motives, at this point, are unknown.`
> 
> `Further analysis will be done. Additional, and ongoing, diplomatic services and discussions will, of course, be implemented.`
> 
> ` -- Signed: Dr. E. Weir, Date: 21.27.2917 (ACT)`
> 
> `Additional information has been provided by:  
>  ` ` -- Drs. B. Finlayson and N. Penda of the Chemistry Department. Addendum by Dr. P. Kavanaugh. See reports #897730PK-86B and #897730PK-86C  
>  ` ` -- Drs. J. Takal, D. Parrish, and R. Manahan of the Biology Department. See report #897730PK-87  
>  ` ` -- Drs. J. Garcia, D. Jackson (Stargate Command), Y. Stetson-Heyer, and C. Kohler of the Anthropology Department. See report #897730PK-89  
>  ` ` -- Major E. Lorne: Security. See report #897730PK-83 `

****

****

****

**Excerpts: Transcripts of Interviews With Labor Camp Guards, Town Leaders, Former Captives -- SECLVL 1**

**Excerpts from transcript of interview with Kestted (camp guard) (E. Lorne, M. Hassan, Y. Blackdeer, B. Sibley-Xu) #SEC-06-911-015-b -- SECLVL 1**  
  


> \-- **Beginning of Transcript** \--  
>    
>  `- [...]  
>  - **Kestted** : All we wanted to do was blow up the building and kill the insurgents. We didn't expect to see people come out the door. But what could we do then? We couldn't kill them there; the bean-eaters are stupid, but even they'd be suspicious if they found a bunch of dead people in the street, and besides, your people [gestures toward Capt. M. Hassan, LCpl. Y. Blackdeer, PFC. B. Sibley-Xu] were in town, and you were a complete unknown. We also couldn't let these rebels go. So, we put them in the wagon. The others tried to talk me into just killing them later and tossing them into the woods a day's journey away, but I reminded them that we were down in production due to too many of them dying after drinking dirty water. I knew they'd be extra trouble, but we had ways of crushing that. Again, they were going to be a lot of extra work.  
>  - **Major E. Lorne** : How many people did you put in the wagon?  
>  - **K** : We put six in it. One of them we ended up pitching into a ravine the second day after she died due to being burnt. Made the load lighter, anyway.  
>  - **EL** : Did you recognize Dr. McKay?  
>  - **K** : Who?  
>  - **EL** : Dr. McKay. He is one of ours. He was part of our team.  
>  - **K** : I don't know anything about that. All I know is we brought five live ones back, all trouble. One of them took a lot of extra attention, even getting back on the bean didn't fix him. But I was glad to have his boots. After rinsing the shit off them in the river -- well, they didn't dry out that bad. Despite the odd lacing, they were sturdy, solid. Getting those boots almost made it worth the hassle of having to stick my -- [sound of chair overturning, shouting, Captain M. Hassan advances on Kestted]  
>  - **EL** : Stand down, Hassan!  
>  - **Captain M. Hassan** : He can't -- I'm not going to let this --  
>  - **EL** : Stand down, now, Captain!  
>  - [long silence, heavy breathing]  
>  - **MH** Yes -- Major Lorne. I'm --  
>  - **EL** : We'll talk later, Captain.  
>  - **MH** : Yes, sir.  
>  - **K** : addresses EL: Your soldier there, your captain. Can't say I admire your decision to use him. He's one of those soft, delicate ones, probably always whining about having to do things he doesn't agree with. He wouldn't last long in my employ.  
>  - [about 15 seconds of silence]  
>  - **EL** : So, Kestted, tell me more about what went on in the camp.  
>  - [...]  
>    
>  `****\-- End of Transcript --**  
>    
>  **

************Excerpts from transcript of interview with Gedett (camp guard) (E. Lorne, M. Hassan, Y. Blackdeer, B. Sibley-Xu) #SEC-06-911-015-b -- SECLVL 1**  
  
**

> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [...]  
>  - **Gedett** : I just did as I was told.  
>  - **Major E. Lorne** : And what were you told?  
>  - **G** : Watch the workers, keep them in line. Dish out the soup to the workers. Cook the meat for the rest of us. If any of the workers got out of hand, I was instructed to -- well -- bring them down a peg, which I did. I was glad that after the first few days the new ones mostly calmed down. I really don't have the stomach for that sort of thing -- you know, done that way -- I'm better with the straightforward stuff, not things that involve my own -- well, that.  
>  - **EL** : What else did you do?  
>  - **G** : Just what I was told. Nothing else. I'm a good worker -- follow directions well. No one ever had any trouble with me.  
>  - [...]  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --** `

`

####  `

####  **Excerpts from transcript of interview with An-Verlis (camp guard) (E. Lorne, M. Hassan, Y. Blackdeer, B. Sibley-Xu) #SEC-06-911-015-c -- SECLVL 1**  


  
`

> ` \-- **Beginning of Transcript** \--  
>    
>  \- [...]  
>  \- **An-Verlis** : I never go into town. Just stay in the camp. Let others do all that back-and-forth work.  
>  \- **Major E. Lorne** : Why's that?  
>  \- **A** : [shrugs] Hate that place, the town. Full of stupid people. I know it's the bean, but they were probably stupid before. It's been generations, I suppose, that took them to get that dumb. All I know is this place is a respite. From idiots.  
>  \- **EL** : You don't have family in town?  
>  \- **A** : Nah. I lived in the woods most of my life. Ran across one of the camp transports about the time I was nearly grown, and wow, it was a revelation to find like-minded people doing good work.  
>  \- **EL** : So, there's no one you care about here?  
>  \- **A** : Nope.  
>  \- **EL** : The things you did at the camp, they didn't ever bother you?  
>  \- **A** : Nah. It's not like I know anyone. They're all strangers to me.  
>  \- **EL** : Hmmm. [takes a drink of water, looks down at tablet]  
>  \- **A** : I want to know something.  
>  \- **EL** : What do you want to know?  
>  \- **A** : The animals, the ones we use to pull the wagons.  
>  \- **EL** : Yes.  
>  \- **A** : What happened to them?  
>  \- **EL** : Why do you ask?  
>  \- **A** : One of them. She's never trouble, always sweet, I'd bring her treats. She'd look for me. She's the spotted one, the one with the crooked tail. The other ones were always trying to take her dried grass, so I tried to look after her a bit. Give her a little protection.  
>  \- **EL** : And you want to know where that animal is?  
>  \- **A** : Yes.  
>  \- **EL** : All of those animals have been returned to the townspeople. I don't know much more than that.  
>  \- **A** : They -- well, they won't -- she's probably wondering where I am. I -- I don't want her to feel sad.  
>  \- [...]  
>    
>  **\-- End of Transcript --**`

**Excerpts from transcript of interview with Yenny (camp guard) (E. Lorne, M. Hassan, Y. Blackdeer, B. Sibley-Xu) #SEC-06-911-015-d -- SECLVL 1**  


  
`

> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [...]  
>  - **Yenny** : He was an odd one. First of all, his clothes were strange, his hair too short. Going off the bean does that to some of them. They get ideas, turn all wild. Most of them are just better at hiding it. It was probably a good thing we bagged that one. If those bean-eaters were able to even think about it, they'd be glad to get rid of a troublemaker like him.  
>  - **Major E. Lorne** : Did you wonder why he --  
>  - **Y** : Hey, it's not my job to wonder about anything, just to get results.  
>  - **EL** : So, you're not the one who makes the decisions?  
>  - **Y** : Sure I do. I'm a pretty important person. Don't think because I'm a woman I can't dish it out.  
>  - **EL** : No. I don't think I'd make that mistake.  
>  - **Y** : I'm hoping to have my own camp one day, replace those two we had to shut down. Once we get past all this nonsense, I'm going to pursue that.  
>  - **EL** : Back to your prisoners, to the one you thought was odd --  
>  - **Y** : Yes. Him. He was pretty incoherent when he arrived but already plotting. You could tell. We made quick work of that, though. You have to get them fast and hard. Really, you're doing them a favor.  
>  - **EL** : How is that?  
>  - **Y** : It's not like they're going to ever leave. We've never had someone escape. So why get their hopes up? That just seems cruel.  
>  - [...]  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --**`

**Excerpts from transcript of interview with Sebra-ed (camp guard) (E. Lorne, M. Hassan, Y. Blackdeer, B. Sibley-Xu) #SEC-06-911-015-e -- SECLVL 1**  
  
**

> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [...]  
>  - **Sebra-ed** : I guarded the workers. My main job was inventory, you know, counting things, and getting the beans back to the town, things like that. Since I didn't really do anything, can I leave now?  
>  - **Major E. Lorne** : We have a lot more questions.  
>  - **S** : All I want to do is go home.  
>  - **EL** : That's not possible. Not right now. We need to know --  
>  - **S** : I didn't do anything. I was just doing my job.  
>  - [...]  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --**`

******Excerpts from transcript of interview with Kurlen (town leader) (E. Weir, E. Lorne, M. Hassan) #SEC-06-911-015-f -- SECLVL 1**  
  


> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [...]  
>  - **Kurlen** : Everything is a mess. I know your people didn't come here to totally dismantle things here, but your very presence has made everything worse. Can't you just leave us alone now?  
>  - **Doctor E. Weir** : We feel we have a duty --  
>  - **K** : A duty to do what? You can't fix anything here. No one trusts each other, family units have been ripped apart, I've got hungry people who haven't a clue how to do much more than pick fruit. We don't even have anything to feed the grackenbirds anymore. If we let the birds out of the pens to find their own food, we'll never be able to catch them again.  
>  - **EW** : We can teach --  
>  - **K** : You've done enough. We don't want your help.  
>  - **EW** : I'm sorry you feel that way.  
>  - **K** : Tell me something, because I've been thinking about this a lot.  
>  - **EW** : Yes?  
>  - **K** : You came here to talk to us and to trade for our beans. You meant no harm.  
>  - **EW** : Yes.  
>  - **K** : And you came back again to inspect our fields, in fact you came back twice. And then you discovered our beans were tainted, so you came back a third time. Why? You didn't want those beans for honest food.  
>  - **EW** : We'd heard rumors of the labor camps.  
>  - **K** : Yeah. The labor camps. If your scientist hadn't been missing, would you have kept coming back?  
>  - **E** : Of course. We thought he was dead. We had no idea he was there.  
>  - **K** : So, the third time you came back, this time with all those weapons, you were coming to help us, not your man?  
>  - **EW** : That's right.  
>  - **K** : It wasn't because you had plans to take our beans and use them on your own people?  
>  - **EW** : Of course not! That's -- No. Absolutely not.  
>  - [long silence]  
>  - **K** : What did you think was going to happen after you found the camps and all was revealed?  
>  - **EW** : We couldn't have possibly known. We can't look into the future.  
>  - **K** : But you thought you were making things better?  
>  - **EW** : There are a lot of dots to connect, with this, but yes, we thought we were. In fact, I know we did. What was happening in those camps was unacceptable, and --  
>  - **K** : Of course, it was unacceptable. I think your "dot connecting" means things are complicated, and I'm not disagreeing. I'm just trying to figure some things out.  
>  - **EW** : Kurlen, we are, too.  
>  - **K** : Your citizen, the one you call McKay? Is he okay?  
>  - **EW** : [silence]. Not yet. He will be. I hope.  
>  - **K** : I'm sorry for him.  
>  - **EW** : I am as well. He's a valuable member of our community. And he's my friend.  
>  - [...]  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --**`

************Excerpts from transcript of interview with Franz-el (town leader) (E. Weir, E. Lorne, M. Hassan) #SEC-06-911-015-g -- SECLVL 1**  
  


> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [...]  
>  - **Franz-el** : I liked the way it was before. People listened to my homilies, smiled, were calm. Now they just fight. They cry. We had no worries when we were on the bean. I know I'm not supposed to want it, but I want the beans back. I know some of the fields were burned. I want to know whose decision that was.  
>  - **Doctor E. Weir** : I understand that your people got together to decide what to do, and there was a vote. That's what you voted to do. I wasn't there, so I don't know.  
>  - **F** : But _I_ didn't vote to do that.  
>  - **EW** : That's how a vote works. Everyone gets a say, and then you have to abide by it. My people have worked really hard to stay out of your business, your decision making.  
>  - **F** : Yes, but I didn't vote that way. I should have gotten what I wanted. As town leader, you should have helped me make them see the right way to do things. [silence] I was thinking. Your people have better weapons than ours. Maybe you could give me some. That might help things for me.  
>  - **EW** : No, Franz-el. We won't do that.  
>  - **F** : I could just -- [stands up suddenly, moves toward EW, both E. Lorne and M. Hassan put their hands on their weapons and move forward]  
>  - **EW** : Franz-el! That's enough!  
>  - **F** : [turns to leave] What good are you then? If you won't help me get my people in order, then you are next to useless. [leaves, slams door, there is the sound of shouting in the street, then quiet]  
>  - **E. Lorne** : Want me to put a detail on him?  
>  - **EW** : Something subtle, but yes.  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --**`

**********Excerpts from transcript of interview with Berk (former captive) (K. Heightmeyer, C. Larsen, E. Weir, [E. Lorne is present but sits at another table]) #SEC-06-911-015-h -- SECLVL 1**  
  


> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [...]  
>  - **Berk** : Yes, I was with the group that arrived after the building explosion. I don't want to talk about it.  
>  - **Doctor K. Heightmeyer** : Take your time.  
>  - **B** : Time? [laughs] I mean, I really don't want to talk about it. Not even time is going to make anything better.  
>  - **KH** : I understand.  
>  - **B** : I don't know how you could.  
>  - **KH** : I know --  
>  - **B** : Stop saying things like that. [long silence] I had hoped we could make a difference, that by getting off the bean myself, by making others aware how what it did to all of us, that I could make things better. I realize now we have nothing to replace it with.  
>  - [...]  
>  - **KH** : When you said earlier about having to make the decision at the camp to take the soup --  
>  - **B** : That was terrible. We'd worked so hard to clear our heads, to get a plan, and then realized we would starve without it. That no plan is any good if you're dead.  
>  - **KH** : I hear you saying that it was hard to do, to have to go back to eating the very thing you'd been fighting.  
>  - **B** : That's what I said. [silence] The dullness doesn't happen right away. It takes about seven or eight sleeps for it to put you down. After what they did to me there -- how they -- the pain was terrible. I don't want to talk about it. [silence] I wish that the bean's veil would have come down sooner, then, as I wouldn't have to feel as much. I don't want to talk about it.  
>  - **KH** : I understand. Take your time.  
>  - **B** : I want to leave now.  
>  - **KH** : Okay.  
>  - **B** : I can just get up right now and go?  
>  - **KH** : Certainly. Do you have someone to be with you at your home?  
>  - **B** : Yes. But they are no help. All they do is cry. And fight with each other about whose fault everything is. [silence] I think we should be trying to figure out how to harvest food from the woods, the lake, the fields, but they are too busy arguing.  
>  - [...]  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --**`

**********Excerpts from transcript of interview with Dar (former captive) (K. Heightmeyer, C. Larsen, E. Weir, [E. Lorne is present but sits at another table]) #SEC-06-911-015-i -- SECLVL 1**  
  


> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [...]  
>  - **Dar** : I'd like to say I tried to help people when they needed it, but I didn't. I couldn't even help myself. I don't even think I recognized most of what was going on. A blessing, really, I think.  
>  - **Doctor K. Heightmeyer** : Do you think so?  
>  - **D** : I do. -- [chews fingernails, Doctor C. Larsen leans over and hands him a tissue for the blood, he dabs at his hand] And to think that one of the guards, Gedett, had been my own neighbor, that Yenny, another one, was my mother's niece. That makes it worse. I don't think I can trust anyone anymore, not knowing they could do those things.  
>  - **KH** : You said earlier that the guards were harder on some people than others.  
>  - **D** : They were. Especially what they did to that odd man who arrived later. They were particularly vicious with him. Too many times. It took only twice, three times with me. I think it was three times. [silence] I know now that I should have cared more for him, for the others. For me. But I didn't. I didn't feel sorry then, but I feel sorry now. -- [starts to cry, KH hands him a cup of water]  
>  - [...]  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --**`

******************Excerpts from transcript of interview with Belarria (former captive) (K. Heightmeyer, C. Larsen, E. Weir, [E. Lorne is present but sits at another table]) #SEC-06-911-015-j -- SECLVL 1**  
  


> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [...]  
>  - **Belarria** : The woman they tossed out of the wagon on the way to the camp, she was my sister.  
>  - **Doctor K. Heightmeyer** : I'm so sorry. That must have been terrible. I can't even begin to --  
>  - **B** : Of course it was terrible. What a stupid thing to say. What did you say you did for your people?  
>  - **KH** : I am a healer, of sorts.  
>  - **B** : Oh.  
>  - **KH** : You were saying you arrived along with the group of people after the building exploded.  
>  - **B** : Yes. I had about seven sleeps of clarity, before I sunk back under. Just enough to know I was in a terrible place. [takes a drink of water]  
>  - **KH** : Take your time.  
>  - **B** : Of course I will. What else what I be doing? [long silence] Turns out I was going to have a baby. Any of those guards might have been the father. [long silence] Of course, it's all foggy, but that ended in a long night hunched over in the latrine. I couldn't have been very far along, only two or three menses back. [long silence] Really, I don't remember much, so it's not really important, is it?  
>  - **KH** : Do you think it was important, Belarria?  
>  - **B** : I just said it wasn't.  
>  - **KH** : Do you --  
>  - **B** : I would have made a terrible mother. What kind of mother gets -- captured? Works like an animal in a field? It was for the best. [long silence] You're a healer, if you were there, you could have saved it, right? [puts her hand on KH's arm] If you'd been in that camp, you could have saved everyone! [becomes agitated, pulls on KH's arm, E. Weir moves forward]  
>  - **KH** : Belarria, it's okay. Take a deep breath.  
>  - **B** : Dont! Don't tell me how to breathe! [pulls arm back, puts head down]  
>  - **KH** : Can I get someone for you?  
>  - **B** : My sister is dead. My baby is dead. I have no one.  
>  - [...]  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --**`

**********Excerpts from transcript of interview with Tarrian (former captive) (K. Heightmeyer, C. Larsen, E. Weir, [E. Lorne is present but sits at another table]) #SEC-06-911-015-k -- SECLVL 1**  
  


> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [...]  
>  - **Tarrian** : I'm thinking that I might do something with that crate of stuff I found in a shed near the edge of town. It had been there a long time. I remember seeing it when I was a child.  
>  - **Doctor K. Heightmeyer** : Pretty old then.  
>  - **T** : You mean me, or the crate? [smiles] Yeah, I'm old enough to have grandchildren.  
>  - **KH** : Did you ever open the crate?  
>  - **T** : I never wanted to until now. It was always just a place to stack stuff on. But, after getting off the bean, I realized I wanted to know what was in it.  
>  - **KH** : What was in it?  
>  - **T** : Books. Stories, maybe. Directions for things like building houses. I saw some pictures of those. Tools you need. Things like that. I think the books are by our ancestors. I want to learn how to decipher what they are about. I think other people may want to, too.  
>  - **KH** : That sounds exciting!  
>  - **T** : Yes, well, I just need to keep them safe from people who want to use them as kindling to light our fires. I don't like secrets, but I think that this one would be good. -- You won't -- You said this was private --  
>  - **KH** : What you say here is not for anyone else's ears.  
>  - **T** : Good. These documents, these books, I think there may be something of value in them. I know it's not much, but it is a start.  
>  - [...]  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --**`

**Excerpts from transcript of interview with Nellis’el (citizen) (E. Weir, C. Larsen, K. Heightmeyer, [E. Lorne is present but sits at another table]) #SEC-06-911-015-l -- SECLVL 1**  
  


> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [...]  
>  - **Nellis’el** : You know, don't you, that the only reason my people said yes to you coming down here to study the beans those three times was because we didn't know any better. And that third time, the sneaky trip you took with the people with guns, the one where you said you were interested in the beans again, but you really wanted to be a sleuth and find that bad camp. I consider that a complete lie on your part.  
>  - **Doctor E. Weir** : We cleared it through your own leaders.  
>  - **N** : Who were just as drugged up as we were. [The infant she is nursing reaches up and grabs her chin. N grabs the baby's hand and strokes it.] I'm not the dullard I was anymore.  
>  - **EW** : We would never consider you or anyone here a dullard.  
>  - **N** : No. We were, and are, what you call a "vulnerable population." I went out to use the latrine late one night, and took a little detour. I overheard you and others talking about us like that in your odd, puffy tents. You were talking about what to do with this place, with us.  
>  - **EW** : [EW looks over at E. Lorne and narrows her eyes slightly. E. Lorne clears his throat, EW looks back at N.] We never meant harm, Nellis'el. We were only concerned by what we had been hearing. That there was --  
>  - **N** : You were curious. I understand that now. Just like when I was curious that night. Did you really think we'd stay stupid forever?  
>  - **EW** : We never, never thought you were stupid, Nellis'el.  
>  - **N** : Yeah. Well. [Her baby grabs at N's other breast, N bats infant's hand down]  
>  - **EW** : What was happening in the camps wasn't right.  
>  - **N** : Oh, I have no argument with you there. The camps were a complete disgrace, a crime against basic decency. My issue with your people is that you took advantage of our drugged state to make decisions we may not have made ourselves.  
>  - **EW** : I can see your point. Another way to look at it is that because of your drugged state, you were unable to make some decisions that you needed to.  
>  - **N** : Perhaps.  
>  - **EW** : We didn't go into this knowing the effects of the bean, Nellis’el. We thought we had full disclosure and consent. It was only after we began to look more closely that we began to discover things were't as we thought. Would you really have wanted us to have heard about the camp and then not done anything? To let those people suffer any longer than they needed to?  
>  - **N** : What I'm saying is we should have had a say. It's our home. Not yours. We're the ones that have to live here. You don't.  
>  - **EW** : It was one of our people who was trapped and abused in that camp.  
>  - **N** : But you didn't _know_ that until you got there.  
>  - **EW** : Yes, I know. And I understand what you're saying.  
>  - **N** : I actually think you do. You're in a tough spot. [silence, then her baby arches again and starts to cry. N scrunches up her nose, leans down to the infant, and sniffs.] I can't decide if I want to talk to you more about this or to tell you to leave here and never come back. But right now, what I need to do is change my baby's buttpad. [N gets up abruptly and leaves. Sound of door closing.]  
>  - [...]  
>  - **EW** : Major Lorne, I know it was late at night and this is a big place, but a civilian should have never have been near our area like she was.  
>  - **Major Lorne** : I apologize, Doctor Weir. It was a security breach that shouldn't have happened.  
>  - **EW** : You are correct, Major. We'll talk later.  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --**`

**Excerpts from transcript of interview with Rand (citizen) (E. Weir, C. Larsen, K. Heightmeyer, [E. Lorne is present but sits at another table]) #SEC-06-911-015-m -- SECLVL 1**  
  


> ` -- **Beginning of Transcript** --  
>    
>  - [...]  
>  - **Rand** : Your presence on Tarlos during the last six lunar cycles hasn't been entirely detrimental.  
>  - **Doctor E. Weir** : Well, that's good to hear.  
>  - **Rand** : Because I want to thank you for something. [laughs]  
>  - **Doctor E. Weir** : What is that, Rand?  
>  - **R** : For that game one of your people taught Bennis. The one you play with the fifty-two pieces of stiff little papers and try to take things away from other people. You call it poker.  
>  - **EW** : Someone taught you to play poker?  
>  - **R** : One of your scientists did. It was one of the days it rained, and they couldn't dig stuff up in that camp. One of your men taught Bennis. Bennis taught Rachen, who taught Bressit, and then Bressit showed it to all those little children who hang out by the communal grackenbird pen.  
>  - **EW** : They're all playing poker?  
>  - **R** : Most of my people have taken to it like a grackenbird to a grub. It's an interesting game. Lots of secrets, and you get rewarded for not telling the truth! The kids only wager for small pretty stones, but the adults have upped it to bigger stakes. Much bigger.  
>  - **EW** : Bigger stakes? Like what?  
>  - **R** : Ahhh. Well. [looks nervous, looks at E. Lorne] Hey, forget I said anything about it. There's been some trouble about it, ahhh -- But it's not my place to --  
>  - **EW** : Rand --  
>  - **R** : I shouldn't have said anything. Really. You wouldn't like to hear what -- Never mind. Ahhh, I'm done here. [R pulls on his hat] In fact, there's one of those games tonight. This time I'm going to swipe that house right out from under Kestted's kin. Maybe his brothers and their children not having a place to sleep at night will make him feel a lot sorrier for what he did to my -- [R narrows his eyes and leaves. Sound of door closing.]  
>  - **K. Heightmeyer** : I don't like the sound of that.  
>  - **EW** : Neither do I.  
>  - **C. Larsen** : We can't control everything. There's always going to be cultural interchange. Any time groups of people have contact with each other, things get noticed, exchanged, borrowed, taken.  
>  - **EW** : Poker. I know it's a small thing, really. But gambling for pointed, active, aggressive retribution. Gambling lighting up their brains, the possibility of exchanging one addiction for another?  
>  - **KH** : Not everything is our fault. Cultures, people, are in charge of their own customs, and yes, their own vices. That's part of what agency is. The reality and the process is often messy.  
>  - **EW** : Perhaps. But the timing of this, as well as other things, bothers me. Everything about this damned mission bothers me! Everything! What happened to Dr. McKay was an atrocity, and I can't promise that some of my decisions aren't filtered through my anger and horror about the trauma he suffered. How can they not be? I'm doing my best to be the voice of a neutral arbiter but fear I'm not succeeding in ways that I need to. [looks at CL] Doctor Larsen, that doesn't leave this room.  
>  - **CL** : Of course not, Doctor Weir.  
>  - **WE** : [silence] Doctor Larsen, I want to apologize for thinking I had tell you that. You are a consummate professional, and my statement was unnecessary.  
>  - **CL** : I understand, Doctor Weir. But, thank you.  
>  - **KH** : Everyone is under a great deal of stress. The complexities here. Worrying about Dr. McKay. The possible complications coming from Stargate Command. It's all taking its toll.  
>  - **CL** : I'm going to step out now. I was going to make the quick stop at Lania's home before we head out. She wanted to show me her brand-new baby sister.  
>  - **E. Lorne** : [speaks from back of room] Take one of the security officers posted outside, Dr. Larsen. Things have gotten a little dicey out there.  
>  - **CL** : I will. [sound of the door closing as CL leaves]  
>  - **EL** : I'm going to step outside for just a moment, Dr. Weir, Dr. Heightmeyer.  
>  - **EW** : Thank you, Major. [sound of the door closing as EL leaves]  
>  - **KH** : [silence] How are you doing, Elizabeth?  
>  - **EW** : I don't know. Probably not great. I don't know.  
>  - **KH** : You sleeping all right? Any troubles with headaches, digestion?  
>  - **EW** : No. I mean, I'm not sleeping well. Yes, I've had a constant belly ache, like something is grabbing my guts and stretching them over something sharp and rusty.  
>  - **KH** : I'd like for you to make some time to come and talk to me, later this afternoon if possible. If that won't work, then sometime tomorrow.  
>  - **EW** : I don't think I need to --  
>  - **KH** : I think you do, Elizabeth. I don't know if it makes you feel any better, but I'm requiring everyone involved to make some extra appointments. There's no weakness in it.  
>  - **EW** : I know. I just -- yes, I know. Okay. [EW's radio beeps, she picks it up] Weir here -- Yes -- Yes -- Absolutely -- Not much damage, good. -- You said there are security officers there now? And one of them has sent for their healer? -- Good -- Do you think they're going to require medical assistance from Atlantis? -- Okay, then we'll wait on that. I'll be there in a moment. [turns off radio] I need to head over to area near the cistern. Apparently, a fight has broken out over someone trying to burn down one of the former guards' house.  
>  - [...]  
>    
>  **-- End of Transcript --**`

********

****

**Excerpts from RMCT (Rodney McKay Care Team) Daily Summaries: Day One**

*********CLASSIFIED/CONFIDENTIAL: Additional security clearances required*********

> **Day One (00:00-12:00) (00:10-24:00):**  
>    
>  Main: C. Beckett (CB) (00:00-12:00) K. Heightmeyer (KH) (observer only)  
>  Backup: J. Sheppard (00:00-12:00)  
>  Main: E. Weir (12:00-24:00)  
>  Backup: J. Sheppard (12:00-24:00)  
>    
>  \- 00:00 -- 00:36: RM enters Infirmary. Observation by CB: RM is somewhat disoriented, bewildered, jumpy, alternately docile and moderately combative. RM's physical appearance: he is heavily bearded and his hair is long and unkempt. His fingernails and toenails are short and ragged. He is filthy with what appears to be mud. He has no open sores, no wounds, has light and faded bruising on upper and lower arms, three-millimeter scar in upper quadrant of face near hairline, eyes are bright and appear to be tracking. RM is suffering from moderate malnourishment and his BMI appears quite low. He is fairly steady on his feet and doesn't appear to be in pain when he moves. RM is extremely vocal in his desire to "be left alone."  
>  \- 01:00 -- CB clearly states to RM that RM has the right to have someone else there with him during the exam, but RM declines. RM has an extremely brief medical exam that is cut short by his refusal to give to consent for it to continue. He is agitated and rebuffs further contact. He insists upon taking a shower. CB registers his concerns to EW and KH via radio regarding RM's state of mind, consent, and anxiety. As RM rests, CB has several emergency formal meetings with E. Weir, K. Heightmeyer, J. Sheppard, C. Beckett (myself) (Atlantis Care Team) and two patch-through meetings via conference line: Dr. W. Holt (Stargate Command Medical Center), Dr. J. Navarro (Mayo Clinic ), Dr. C. Ahn (Walter Reed Army Medical Center) (Earth).  
>  \- 02:00 -- As RM continues to rest, CB and KH formalize the Care Plan. CB offers shower to RM. RM utilizes the shower for 85 minutes. Physical alterations to RM's quarters are done at this time. CB explains terms to RM regarding his release to his quarters. RM at this time displays some confusion about the passing of time, something that may be a normal part of his re-entry, or may be a concern regarding his cognitive abilities.  
>  \- 03:00 -- 03:08: RM leaves Infirmary. 03:15: RM arrives at door to quarters. 03:18: RM enters quarters. 03:26: verbal check-in at door (CB), affirmative reply, no further communication. This is when visual and audio observation begins. 03:38: RM eats meal provided. 03:55: RM uses toilet (urination, stands), does not wash hands. His movements are slow but deliberate. He demeanor appears to be somewhat bewildered, tired, focused.  
>  \- 04:00 -- RM removes scrubs, puts on sweatpants and t-shirt. 04:11: RM gets into bed. Appears to fall asleep quickly.  
>  \- 05:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 06:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 07:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 08:00 -- RM sleeps, restless.  
>  \- 09:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 10:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 11:00 -- 11:19: RM awakes, uses the toilet (urination, standing), does not wash hands. His movements are slow but deliberate. His demeanor appears to be tired, focused. 11:26: RM answers radio check-in (CB). CB offers to bring food, RM consents. CB contacts kitchen and requests plain cream of wheat, banana, plain weak tea to be delivered immediately to security station in the corridor near RM's quarters. CB delivers tray, RM takes tray, doesn't make eye contact, shuts door. 11:46: RM eats all of the food on the tray, shows no pleasure or displeasure.  
>  \- 12:00 -- 12:09: RM goes back to bed. (Shift: JS, EW)  
>  \- 13:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 14:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 15:00 -- RM sleeps, restless.  
>  \- 16:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 17:00 -- 12:28: RM wakes. 12:45: RM gets out of bed, sits in desk chair, stares out of the window.  
>  \- 18:00 -- RM stares out of window. 18:42: uses toilet (apparent bowel movement that appears to be a bit difficult), does not wash hands.  
>  \- 19:00 -- 19:03: RM answers radio check-in (CB) and requests toast. CB asks RM about any digestion issues and RM's reply suggests he is having some slight issues. 19:13: After consultation with the Dietary Specialist (S. J. Patel), CB requests a simplified tray from the mess hall (gelatin and broth). 19:29: CB delivers tray to RM's door, RM looks at CB's face briefly, takes tray, shuts door without saying anything. 19:35: RM eats entirety of meal and puts tray on his desk.  
>  \- 20:00 -- 20:17: RM uses toilet (urination, standing), does not wash hands. 20:32: RM stares out the window.  
>  \- 21:00 -- 21:36: RM gets into bed and appears to fall asleep.  
>  \- 22:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 23:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 24:00 -- RM sleeps, restless.  
>  \- 25:00 -- (Shift: CB, JS)  
>    
>  \-- Goals accomplished: answers radio check-ins, shows self-care regarding eating meals, requesting food, using the toilet. RMCT has established a small baseline for RM's sleep habits, urinary and bowel habits.  
>    
>  \-- Topics for later discussion/and or concern: caloric offerings vs bland food (consult with dietitians), excessive sleep. KH feels this is not a concern at this time; RM is in a state of mild shock and this is one way his body is coping. This is something, however, to keep an eye on. CB will also need to convey the importance of RM taking medications as directed depending on the results of RM's preliminary blood test results. RM needs to be reminded to wash his hands after using the toilet, a personal action he is out of practice with. If RM continues to have issues with bowel movements and/or abdominal pain, we will need to revisit dietary offerings.  
>    
>  \-- Regarding the shift change at 25:00: While JS will be the main observer and note keeper on the second day, CB will be the main radio contact. This is to have an initial continuous care "voice" for RM in an attempt to not overwhelm him. CB will also be the point person for the proposed brief medical exam planned for this second day. 

**Excerpts from RMCT (Rodney McKay Care Team) Daily Summaries: Day Three**

*********CLASSIFIED/CONFIDENTIAL: Additional security clearances required*********

> **Day Three (00:00-12:00, 01:00-24:00):**  
>  Main: E. Weir (00:00-12:00)  
>  Backup: J. Sheppard (00:00-12:00)  
>  Main: J. Sheppard (12:00-24:00)  
>  Backup: K. Heightmeyer (12:00-24:00)  
>    
>  \- 00:00 -- RM sleeps. Shift: EW (main), JS (backup)  
>  \- 01:00 -- RM sleeps, restless.  
>  \- 02:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 03:00 -- RM sleeps, restless.  
>  \- 04:00 -- RM sleeps, restless.  
>  \- 05:00 -- 05:13: RM appears to awaken slightly. He turns over and looks at his nightstand, and goes back to sleep.  
>  \- 06:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 07:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 08:00 -- 08:02: RM awakens but does not get out of bed. He stares at the ceiling, but does not appear agitated, as he did in the night before when he made a distressed call via his radio. 08:25: RM gets out of bed and tries to open his window. The window, of course, has been secured. RM appears to find this frustrating and hits his fist on the sill. 09:34: RM removes his clothing, uses the toilet (apparent bowel movement), does not wash hands, and turns on the shower. 08:45: RM takes a shower.  
>  \- 09:00 -- RM showers. \- 10:00 -- 10:06: RM steps out of shower. 10:08-10:15: RM strips linens off of his bed, collects other dirty laundry and puts it in a pile by his door. He sits on edge of his bed, then, remakes the bed with the soiled linen, retrieves and refolds most of his other dirty laundry, and puts them back on his shelves and/or in the bathroom. Then he dresses himself in a previously-worn sweatpants and t-shirt. 10:39: RM answers radio check-in, asks for oatmeal, takes tray from CB with a nod and quick eye contact, and shuts the door. 10:46: RM eats oatmeal, puts tray on desk.  
>  \- 11:00 -- 11:55: RM looks out window.  
>  \- 12:00 -- Shift: JS (main), KH (backup)  
>  \- 13:00 -- RM works on Sudoku book.  
>  \- 14:00 -- RM works on Sudoku book.  
>  \- 15:00 -- RM works on Sudoku book. Eats several applesauces.  
>  \- 16:00 -- RM works on Sudoku book.  
>  \- 17:00 -- RM works on Sudoku book.  
>  \- 18:00 -- RM works on Sudoku book.  
>  \- 19:00 -- RM works on Sudoku book.  
>  \- 20:00 -- 20:36: RM wakes, uses the toilet (urination, standing). 20:52: RM turns on provided laptop, appears to look at the lit screen for about five minutes, then throws laptop on floor.  
>  \- 21:00 -- 21:01: RM appears to be very agitated. He paces his room, shaking his head, shaking his hands in front of his body. He appears to have a hard time catching his breath. At this time, JS calls for backup assistance from KH. KH arrives at the observation station in less than two minutes, observes RM's extreme agitation, directs JS to call RM's radio. RM appears not to hear the device or is ignores it. JS keeps calling, while KH uses her own radio to call CB. RM finally picks up the earpiece, and responds. He is clearly in some sort of crisis, and unable to only say "I don't know." CB arrives in the hallway at 21:11, just as JS and KH enter RM's quarters. RM is standing, trembling, and appears to be unaware of his surroundings. To reduce RM's stress, JS is the one who speaks to him directly and he initially physically reassures him. RM's responses are disorientated and combative. He strikes out with his feet (making contact with JM's leg) and teeth (making contact with JM's lower arm, breaking skin). JS successfully restrains RM as CB takes his blood pressure, administers oxygen, a sedative via hypodermic, and sets up a portable heart monitor. CB uses this opportunity do a basic physical exam (not an invasive examination), as per protocol. At this time, RM's soiled sheets are changed. Additional blankets and clothing are utilized to keep him warm and ward off shock.  
>  \- 22:00 -- CB, KH, and JS sit in RM's quarters as RM sleeps. CB estimates RM will be unconscious for quite some time. E. Weir is also consulted, and it is determined at this time that JS will take a double shift, enabling RM to have fewer contacts when he awakes. CB and KH stay and fill out paperwork, discuss the turn of events with JS. CB will monitor RM for several hours. It is at this time, CB treats JS for a bite to his lower arm (flushing with isotonic sodium chloride solution, cover lightly with gauze, no stitches were done despite breaking the skin as this raises the risk of infection) as well as recommending a cold pack for blunt injury to his leg. CB studies the readout from RM's heart monitor and disconnects it. It is decided that JS will stay the night. CB will return for a follow-up visit when RM awakes.  
>  \- 23:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 24:00 -- RM sleeps.  
>  \- 25:00 -- Shift: JS (main), CB and KH (backups)  
>    
>  Goals accomplished: Initially, RM spent the morning engaged in his surroundings regarding his laundry situation. Other success: Despite RM's distress and subsequent need for medical intervention, he answered his radio. KH considers RM's decision to do this a step in the right direction and displays an increased level of trust. While RM's turn for the worse may feel like a set-back, KH noted that it is not unexpected.  
>    
>  \-- Upcoming topics of discussion: supplementary calories in daily meals, support of engagement regarding outside interests (proposal: visit from Dr. R. Zelenka). Another goal is for RM to initiate contact beyond his required radio check-ins. RMCT should also discuss if it would be beneficial to wait and see if RM will ask for help, or if laundry service should be provided without his request. 

  
****

**Documents Regarding Work and Security Clearances: Doctor McKay -- SECLVL 1**

> **Addendum filed by Dr. C. Beckett, seven weeks after the original Care Plan was submitted.  
>  **  
>  Summary: Dr. R. McKay has been cleared for normal physical duty as it pertains to his responsibilities as the Chief Science Officer of Atlantis.  
> 
> 
> \-- Full clearance to these duties, however, is dependent upon the Dr. K. Heightmeyer's evaluation and subsequent report.  
>    
>  **Addendum filed by Dr. K. Heightmeyer, seventeen weeks after the original Care Plan was submitted.**  
>    
>  Summary: Dr. R. McKay has been fully cleared for moderate duty as it pertains to his responsibilities as the Chief Science Officer of Atlantis.  
> 
> 
> \-- This clearance does not apply for off-world missions. 
> 
> \-- This includes full security clearance. See #SEC-985-AP-2 for details. 
> 
> **Addendum filed by Dr. K. Heightmeyer, twenty-two weeks after the original Care Plan was submitted.**  
>    
>  Summary: Dr. R. McKay has been cleared for full active duty as it pertains to his responsibilities as the Chief Science Officer of Atlantis, as well as off-world missions.  
> 
> 
> \-- Pre and post off-world mission counseling sessions are mandatory for the first three missions. I will revisit this restriction at that time. 
> 
> **Addendum filed by Dr. K. Heightmeyer, filed twenty-seven weeks after the original Care Plan was submitted.**  
>    
>  Summary: Dr. R. McKay has been cleared for all duties, with no restrictions.  
> 
> 
> All details regarding the content of Dr. R. McKay's file will be provided only on a need-to-know basis and require the signatures of Dr. E. Weir, Dr. P. Haegle -- SCG, Dr. O. Thigpen-Embry -- SCG, General J. O'Neill -- SCG, as well as Drs. C. Beckett and K. Heightmeyer. Petitions for this information must be made in writing at least 48 hours in advance. 
> 
>   
> 

****  
****

**Report Filed by Atlantis’ Head of Operations (Dr. E. Weir) Regarding Complete Diplomatic Breakdown on Planet P3X-432 (Tarlos) **

> ` RE: Mission #06-869-82PL6  
>  ` ` Date filed: 23.17.2917 (ACT)  
>  ` `Security Level: SECLVL 1  
>  ` `Filed by: E. Weir  
>  `  
>  ` Despite Atlantis' military and humanitarian resources and capabilities, there has been a complete breakdown of diplomatic relations on Planet P3X-432.  
>    
>  ` `The citizens there are grappling with many challenges including a) food shortages, heightened by entrance into a long winter, b) anger at various factions in their own population regarding the exposure of labor camp and mistreatment and violence done to each other by their own friends, neighbors, and in some cases, family members, c) medical and psychological implications of exposure and withdrawal from _benixis-17_ , d) re-evaluation of societal expectations, hierarchy, and the social contracts they had with each other, e) their disagreements with each other on how to proceed.  
>    
>  ` `While this was certainly never the intent, this is all been compounded by the presence of our people and what the our mission revealed on Planet P3X-432.  
>    
>  ` `Despite extensive consultation with numerous varied experts here on Atlantis and Stargate Command, I recommend we honor the majority of Planet P3X-432's citizen's request to have no further contact with them. Their agency is their own.  
>    
>  ` `Ultimately, despite the fact that we came into the situation with no intent to harm, our very presence undermined, for better or worse, many of Planet P3X-432's cultural and societal mores and norms. I would argue that no society should depend upon the labors of others done without their consent, nor implement the types of mistreatment, injustices and violence a small number of their population have committed on everyone else. I do consider it progress that these horrific infractions were revealed. But as for the the aftermath?  
>    
>  ` `After extensive diplomatic reasoning and contact, I have come to the conclusion it is not within the scope or mission of Atlantis to insert or impose what we feel to be our moral authority by utilizing our superior military power and other advantages to correct what we feel to be flaws on Planet P3X-432.  
>    
>  ` `We will attempt to check in with them at a later date, but to insert ourselves, without permission or request, and especially after being told explicitly to not do so the very people who live there, is not within the bylaws of Atlantis. This includes any covert missions.  
>    
>  ` `I will be filing an immediate HALT OF PROCEDURE.  
>    
>  ` `-- signed, Dr. E. Weir`

**Mission Report: Doctor Rodney McKay**

` Submitted by: Dr. Rodney McKay  
` `Report number: #MIS-07-911-82PL67, directly related to #MIS-06-869-82PL6  
` `Planet designation: P3X-432  
` `Date of mission: 21.16.2917 (ACT)  
` `Date or report: 19.19.2918 (ACT)  
` `Type of mission: initial diplomatic contact, trade agreement proposal  
` ` Length: total 2 pages, excerpted below`

> ` Note: This report was submitted ten months after the events described therein. The reasons for this late filing will be obvious from context outlined below.  
>    
>  ` `Team One, consisting of J. Sheppard, T. Emmagan, R. Dex, and myself, went to a planet called P3X-432 (actual name is Tarlos). The nature of our visit was to set up a trade agreement.  
>    
>  ` `During our mission, a citizen who said she had pertinent information regarding their discordant success in agriculture approached me. She wanted me to come with her for proof of this discovery. Dubious, I emphasized the need to take my team with me, but she insisted that this would be too many strange faces and would be suspicious.  
>    
>  ` `[...]  
>  `  
>  `The building exploded just as the wagon moved out of the area, but I was hindered by a head injury and smoke inhalation, and I could not be certain of the chain of events. I was taken to a labor camp where my tasks included picking beans, bringing water up from the river, and other duties. The food was sparse and my living conditions difficult. My physical treatment by the labor camp guards was harsh.  
>    
>  ` `I was retrieved ten months later.  
>    
>  ` `At no time was I asked about anything at all to do with Atlantis, and I was not compromised in that way.  
>    
>  ` `-- Submitted by Dr. Rodney McKay `

``

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**3A: Additional Reports Filed With Stargate Command**  


  


  99. Report: Summary *****REDACTED***** (General P. Hurd, Jr.) -- SECLVL Z 
  100. Report: Summary *****REDACTED***** (General K. Papineau) -- SECLVL Z 
  101. Report: Additional Points *****REDACTED***** (General J. O'Neill) -- SECLVL Z 
  102. Report: Recommendations *****REDACTED***** (General E. Garcia-Picador) -- SECLVL Z 
  103. Report: Final Decision *****REDACTED***** (General T. Barry) -- SECLVL Z 
  104. Final Report Filed by Stargate Command Regarding Future Involvement and Deployment on Planet P3X-432 (General of the Air Force A. L. Kessler), #TPSC-987-89-A-2008, *****REDACTED***** \-- SECLVL Z
  105. Appeal filed regarding decisions outlined in #TPSC-987-89-A-2008 (Doctor E. Weir), #APP-88-MU, details: *****REDACTED***** \-- SECLVL Z 
  106. Appeal filed regarding decisions outlined in #TPSC-987-89-A-2008 (General K. Papineau), #APP-89-MU, details: *****REDACTED***** \-- SECLVL Z 
  107. Appeal filed regarding decisions outlined in #TPSC-987-89-A-2008 (General J. O'Neill), #APP-90-MU, details: *****REDACTED***** \-- SECLVL Z 
  108. Report filed for the Censure of General J. O'Neill in relation to #TPSC-987-89-A-2008, details: *****REDACTED***** \-- SECLVL Z 

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**3B: Excerpts from Expanded Documentation Below**

**  
** ** **

** Final Report Filed by Stargate Command Regarding Future Involvement and Deployment on Planet P3X-432 (General of the Air Force A. L. Kessler) **   


  
` From: General of the Air Force A. L. Kessler  
`  
`To: General T. Barry, General E. Garcia-Picador, General J. O'Neill, General P. Hurd, Jr., General K. Papineau  
`  
`Date: 02.12.2008 (Earth), 13.26.2917 (ACT)  
`  
`Topic: Stargate Atlantis, Mission #06-869-82PL6, further military and diplomatic presence, the chemical called ***REDACTED*** and its possible further utilization  
  
Reference points: #SEC-06-432-015, #SEC-21-532-687 (addendum: #SEC -09-312-906-A), #SEC-06-54-8126, #SEC-10-702-914, #SEC-00-900-590, #SEC-43-111-786, #SEC-12-788-019, #DIP-19-90-645-A, #MED-89-0987, #MED-615-7893-B, GEN-999-0PL-99-a, GEN-999-0PL-99-b, GEN-999-0PL-99-c, GEN-999-0PL-99-d, GEN-999-0PL-99-e  
`

>   
>  ` Major Points: ***REDACTED***  
>    
>  ` `After reading all available documentation, including reports, lab results, and transcripts, Stargate Command has decided ***REDACTED*** is worth pursing in some preliminary limited exposure on ***REDACTED***. These actions will be taken immediately.  
>    
>  ` `Evaluation of outcome will be determined by ***REDACTED*** for the purposes of ***REDACTED*** and ***REDACTED***  
>    
>  ` ` Other agencies consulted: Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) ***REDACTED***, Central Intelligence Agency (US-CIA) ***REDACTED***, as well ***REDACTED***, and ***REDACTED***, ***REDACTED***, ***REDACTED***, ***REDACTED***, ***REDACTED***  
>    
>  ` `Report on further action on Planet P3X-432 and how it pertains to ***REDACTED***  
>    
>  ` `Possible future wider utilization of ***REDACTED***  
>    
>  ` `Additional departments will be notified as soon as ***REDACTED*** is ready to be ***REDACTED***  
>    
>  ` `Request for the contents of materials filed in Biology Lab Two at Stargate Atlantis, Biosafety Level 3 (BSL-3), biosafety cabinets ***REDACTED*** If not relinquished peacefully, then mobilization will be required. This may include Task Force ***REDACTED*** and Task Force ***REDACTED***  
>    
>  ` `Further information is on a need to know basis, Security Level Z.  
>    
>  ` `-- signed, General of the Air Force A. L. Kessler  
>  `  
>  `Cc: President of the United States  
>  ` `Cc: General T. Barry, General E. Garcia-Picador, General J. O'Neill, General P. Hurd, Jr., General K. Papineau  
>  `

  
handwritten note on a single piece of paper slid under the door to the quarters of Dr. Elizabeth Weir.   


  
_Dr. Weir,_ _I'm a biologist in Lab Three. I was on the three bio missions to Tarlos. I know you've read my reports, and you led several debriefings I was present at, but I also know you have many meetings and may not remember me specifically. ~~Or you do as the scientist who accidentally knocked over the water pitcher onto Dr. Parrish's laptop.~~ I need to have you contact me as soon as possible. It's about the toxic compound in the bean, _benixis-17_. I've discovered something pretty major about it. ~~The beans themselves can't produce the chemical. Its transference is dependent on the partially domesticated fowl on that planet, the grackenbirds. The reason _benixis-17_ forms is by a combination of the grackenbirds' excrement via a very specialized fungus via microbes in Tarlos' soil. I'm almost certain the chemical was formed by a situation created by a powerful concurrence of factors that cannot be recreated in a lab. This is due to the fickle nature of fungi spore and a key link between oxidative stress and proliferation of wall-less bacteria known as K-forms and why they ...~~ Anyway, I have all the documentation and can show it to you. ~~Dr. Weir, at this point, I haven't filed anything in official reports about this mainly because I wanted to be certain first, but also because I've heard some rumors there being further interest in this compound. Dr. Weir, this note is not particularly professional and admittedly bit cloak and dagger, but I didn't want my speculations to be introduced into the official paperwork without talking to you first. Also, please don't think I'm a spy or anything, or something else like that. I really want to do the right thing, but I also want to keep my job. I don't want to cause trouble or mess things up. Dr. Weir, I haven't said anything about this to anyone else. I mean, I trust my lab mates and fellow Principal Investigators, but I also know everyone's under a lot of pressure, and also that there are layers to this whole matter that I am far from understanding. I'm just a biologist, after all.~~ Would you please give me some guidance before I proceed along official channels?_ _ Sincerely, Dr. Janelle Takal, Biology _ `  
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